


The Dragon and the Wolf

by ordinarywriter29



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adventure, F/M, Mages, Magic, Multiple Partners, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Sex, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 100,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordinarywriter29/pseuds/ordinarywriter29
Summary: Sort of sequel to 'Dragonborn Rising'The story of Ragnar Dragonborn in the world of 'The Witcher'. Based around the events after the Third Northern War, the triumph of Nilfgaard over Temeria, the Dragonborn and the White Wolf are on the search for Cirilla, while keeping the Wild Hunt off her and their backs. Along the way, the pair would venture across the continent and beyond, finding themselves involved in the politics, intrigue and violence of the day.(Technically, this is a story based on the game events of the Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, with the Dragonborn hanging around.)Update: Sunday and Wednesday
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Mae Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ves, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Francesca Findabair | Enid an Gleanna, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Keira Metz, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Philippa Eilhart, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Rosa var Attre, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Shani, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Tamara Strenger, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Tomira, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Triss Merigold
Comments: 16
Kudos: 62





	1. Mud and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> So now that I’ve finished ‘Dragonborn Rising’, I needed a new project to get my teeth into. ‘The Dragonborn Comes’ will eventually be completed, but I’ve reached a bit of writer’s block with that, mostly due to, I’ll admit, getting a tad bored with it, which is why it’s on hiatus. I will return to it eventually, but I need a long break from it to get back in the mood to finish it.
> 
> Ragnar was popular with the few people that read ‘Dragonborn Rising’ all the way through, and I figured I’d send him somewhere else, just for fun. I don’t play many video games, only those that really interest me, and I thoroughly enjoyed ‘Witcher 3: Wild Hunt’. Currently doing another playthrough (I was playing quite a bit of No Man’s Sky, but jeez, it can drag on a bit). I’ve also read a few of the books. So I figured I’d send him to the Witcher world and have a little fun.
> 
> This won’t be a crossover. This will just be Ragnar, the Dragonborn, being dumped into that world, based on the Witcher 3 game (I’ve never played the first two games as they were not on Playstation), but I’ll think of some back story that will cover other events. The timeline will be based on a mish mash of story canon and game canon, but mostly on the latter. It won’t reference the TV series (though I thoroughly enjoyed watching it). I’m also not a lore nerd, so I might get things wrong, but I also write ‘crossovers’ based on the fact that an outside character arriving would change certain things. There will be references to Elder Scrolls but that’ll be about it.
> 
> Like all my stories uploaded onto this site, it will be smutty and it will involve the Dragonborn taking on multiple partners, though it's not technically a harem, at least at the time of writing. If that’s your sort of thing, I hope you enjoy the story. It will generally follow events of Witcher 3, though not entirely as I want to make sure Ragnar has his own story but will intertwine with the stories of other characters, particularly Geralt of Rivia.
> 
> Regarding relationships, I'll only be adding the tag when it actually happens. Don't want to give away who I intend him to be intimate with. If there is anyone you might like him to be with, that I haven't thought of, at least, you can always suggest it.

Whenever I wake with a hangover, I’m left thinking I had a pretty good night the evening before, as it generally meant I’d enjoyed decent food, good drink, perhaps some music, and if I played my cards right, I’d wake up next to one or more attractive women. But the fact I woke up with a headache and I was immediately wracked by pain shooting up from my toes through every inch of my body, it suggested something wasn’t right.

Trying to remember what I’d done last, the memories were fuzzy. Even my eyeballs felt sore, and I didn’t particularly want to open them. I tried to speak, but could only make some sort of guttural noise. I was with it enough to sense I wasn’t alone, wherever I was. Slightly opening my eyes so they probably appeared like slits, I noticed a raven-haired woman approach.

“Serana?” I asked. I hadn’t thought of her in a long time, not since I’d arrived on the Continent. But maybe, just maybe, everything that had happened was… a dream?

“I don’t know who that is,” the feminine voice replied. A gentle voice. A friendly voice. But also the language, the common tongue, of the Continent.

“Where am I?” I managed to ask, my mouth parched. Whoever the woman was helped me sit up slightly, feeling a cup placed at my lips, and I greedily sipped at the cold water. I finished the cup before she told me to lie back down, that my wounds required more healing. “Wounds? Where am I? What happened?” I asked again.

“You’re in a house about fifteen minutes’ walk out of White Orchard. And you are very lucky to be alive. If the Black Ones hadn’t killed you, then the ghouls would have no doubt feasted on your body.” Forcing my eyes open, I was greeted by a woman sitting on the edge of the bed. Raven haired, as I already knew. Soft features, though. I liked to think I could judge people quickly, and I was generally correct in my assumptions. She had blue eyes that reminded me of the ocean. She rested a hand on my chest. “You should rest some more. Let your wounds heal.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“You’ve been unconscious for around a week. Peasants were scouring the battlefield nearby, looking for anything they could use. They thought you were dead, but somehow, you still lived and breathed. They managed to drag your body here. I buried your armour outside. Don’t need the Black Ones giving me any sort of attention.”

“Surely they’d figure out…”

“There is peace for the moment. Any soldier that once wore the Three Lilies has either fled or dropped sword and shield, gone home to their family.” She patted my chest. “I’ll give you something to sleep. A couple more days and you should be feeling a bit better.”

Whatever she gave me must have knocked me out good and proper, as I fell asleep again within seconds, returning to the dreams I had been experiencing. Of my life back on Skyrim. The adventures I had enjoyed. The people I’d met. The conflicts I’d been involved and resolved. The women I’d bedded. And I’d bedded a lot of women. There had been a few special women. Aela the Huntress had been one. Serana had been another.

Then I would dream of my arrival on the Continent. I’d been here for over a decade now, having arrived only a year or two after I’d learned of being Dragonborn. I’d met some strange people. Made some good friends. Been involved in numerous adventures. Bedded a few women as well. If I tried to guess, my age was still only just beyond thirty or so winters.

I’d also made my home in the north, as much as a wanderer like myself could make himself a home, so when Nilfgaard chose to invade again, I joined the Northern armies to stop their progress. None would have known who I really was, would know of my history of this world, how I had arrived. I chose to no longer use my gift, not against man or mer anyway. Using it against the monsters that inhabited this world was a different story, but it had been a promise I had made to the Greybeards long ago, and since my arrival on the Continent, I could count on one hand how often I had used my Thu’um. I chose to rely on my sword and shield, a little magic if I was desperate, and only used my Thu’um when I believed it was absolutely required. I had shown my gift to some old friends, and I had scared the living shit out of them. Even those sorceresses I had met had been intimidated by that gift alone.

When I next opened my eyes, I was still in a lot of pain, but at least I could move better. Opening my eyes, I looked around to see a well provisioned room, covered by a thick blanket, lifting it to see I lay in only my underwear, my body still bruised and bandaged. “Hello?” I called.

The raven-haired lady walked through the door a few seconds later. Noticing I was wide awake, she immediately grinned, gently pulling back the blanket and checking the bandages. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than whenever I was last awake.”

“That was three days ago. You just needed a bit more sleep, and I needed more time to tend to your wounds.” She pulled a bandage off and made a sound of approval. “Yes, that’s much better. You are certainly looking more alive than you looked when they dragged you in here. Touch and go those first couple of days.”

“Guess I should thank my rescuers eventually.”

“They probably won’t want to know if you’re alive or not. They dragged you here, dumped you on the bed, and practically ran away.” As she pulled off my bandages, she continued. “So I guess you’d like to know where you are?”

“White Orchard, if I remember correctly.”

“Aye. Once of Temeria, but the Black Ones are well and truly in charge already. Only been here a few days and they’re already restoring order. The people are not happy, of course, but there is little they can do. The armies you were part of were completely smashed. Nilfgaard now stand to cross the Pontar.”

“Miracle I survived.”

Her eyes moved up towards my upper chest, where my medallion rested. “That is no witcher medallion. Never seen anything like it.”

She removed her hands so I could shuffle back to sit up against the headboard. “Could I bother you for a drink?”

“I’ll get you some water. And also something to eat.”

Disappearing out the door, I felt the urge to stand up, but if I’d been asleep for as long as I thought, I knew my muscles would probably start screaming within seconds. So I stayed in bed as she returned within a couple of minutes with some water and fresh fruit. I devoured the apple within a few bites, much to her amusement, and I drank half the pitcher of water within a couple of minutes. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Ragnar. Ragnar Dragonborn.”

“Dragonborn? What an interesting last name.”

“There’s quite the story behind it. Relates to this medallion. Tell me your name and I’ll explain as best I can.”

“Tomira. I would say ‘Tomira of such and such’, but, well, I guess this place is my home now, and most just call me Tomira. Anything else isn’t worth remembering.”

“Well, I’ll say thank you for everything already, Tomira. I’m certainly glad to be alive.”

“We lost enough during the slaughter. Just saving one life might be enough.” She poured me another cup of water. “So, the medallion?”

“It’s an Amulet of Talos.”

“Never heard of him before.”

“He’s one of the Nine Divines. It’s a long story, but would it surprise you if I said I wasn’t from here?”

“Your accent certainly isn’t from this region. You’re no Nilfgaardian, nor are you from further north. I can figure out how tall you are, and the fact you’re built like a warrior so… Skellige?”

“While they remind me of my kin, no, I’m not from there. Would it shock you if I said I wasn’t of this world?”

“I’ve heard of stranger things than that. I could ask for evidence, but something tells me that you’re not crazy so… where are you from if not here?”

“My homeland is somewhere called Skyrim, which is part of a continent called Tamriel, which is on a world known as Nirn. I am known as a Nord in my own world. It doesn’t apply to the Nordlings of this world. We are substantially different.”

“I’ve heard crazier stories, but something leads me to believe you. Don’t ask me why, just call it a gut feeling. What made you join the war?”

“I’m a warrior. It looked like a good enough reason to fight, and I don’t particularly like bullies. I’ve travelled alongside others before, though I don’t know where they are right now. I call myself an adventurer though many would probably call me a mercenary as I generally only fight for coin. I generally ride from town to town, taking on jobs, solving problems.” I would have added ‘bedding women’ but she didn’t need to know that just yet.

“Witcher work?”

“I generally leave that to the few remaining witchers, but if it’s urgent, I’ll generally give it my best shot. I’ve been shown a few tricks over the years by a friend or two. Obviously got the scars where I got it wrong.”

Tomira stood up and offered her hand. “Come on, let’s get you up, see how you go taking a few steps.”

Taking the offered hand, I spun so my feet touched the cold ground, and with a little help from Tomira, I managed to stand up. My legs immediately cried out in surprise, and I felt a touch of vertigo, taking a couple of deep breaths, Tomira wrapping an arm around my waist. “Didn’t realise you were this tall,” she said.

“It clearly made me a target during the battle. I tried to tell anyone who would listen about the strength of a shield wall. Obviously they didn’t, and now I’m here and everyone else is dead.”

“See if you can walk into the other room.”

I just about managed to shuffle my way there, taking a seat at the table before she brought over a little more food for me to eat. I was now starving, so I ended up what felt like eating her out of house and home, though she assured me she didn’t want for anything. Disappearing while I was eating, she returned with a shirt, trousers and boots for me to wear. “A friend brought these for me for you to wear. Hopefully everything will fit.”

“I guess I shouldn’t wear my armour. Any idea where I can get a weapon?”

“The peasants that brought you didn’t bring any with them. You could try the battlefield, though I’m sure the bodies are now attracting certain monsters. There is a dwarf in the village who could make you a weapon, but he won’t make you one without coin.”

“I certainly need to pay…”

She immediately waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. I would do it again in a heartbeat. If I were to turn away a dying man, I’m no better than the monsters that now infest this world.”

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

After getting dressed. I tried walking around the small house for a few minutes before walking out the door and outside. The sunlight was nearly blinding for a few seconds, placing a hand over my eyes so I could take in the scene. I could see a few other homesteads in the distance, peasants tending to their farms, but it was the smells that really poked at my senses. There were flowers nearby, that were rather fragrant, but there was the subtle stench of a nearby battlefield that was full of dead bodies.

“I generally keep a form of incense burning in the house to keep it out,” Tomira stated alongside me.

“I guess it’s worse the closer you get.”

Tomira made a couple of gestures. “There isn’t much around, to be honest. There is a tavern in the middle of the village. Other than that, you’ll have to head further north for anything that might take your interest.”

“I’m going to need a few things before I even contemplate moving on. Weapons. Armour. A horse. Coin. And the fact I’d like to feel a little better as well.”

“Feel up to walking to the tavern tonight? A drink and a proper hot meal might do you some good.”

“I assume you’ll be joining me?”

“Of course. Have to make sure you get there and back.”

I took a seat outside to enjoy some fresh air as Tomira wandered back inside. I remained outside until light started to fade, Tomira joining me, suggesting we should head towards the village. I had no real memory of White Orchard. I might have passed through it on one or many journey’s but had never stopped before. I could generally remember most places I’d visited over the years, though I had spent times travelling all across the Northern Kingdoms.

The tavern was quieter than those I’d normally visit, but considering the peasants now had new overlords, as most had been proud Temerians. To my surprise, the Three Lilies were still prominent on more than one shield on the wall, though I wasn’t going to draw attention to it. Some of the drinkers recognised Tomira, at least, as she led us to a table, a tankard of ale placed in front of us as Tomira asked for a whole chicken with some trimmings on the side. Once it arrived, she pushed the plate towards me. “You need to eat,” she said.

“I am feeling hungry. Sure you don’t want any?”

“I’ll get something later.”

I ate the whole thing, much to her amusement as I pushed the plate forward and released a quiet belch. The tavern did slowly fill with people but the atmosphere was one of desperation and loss. Tomira and I kept out conversation quiet, mostly so we didn’t draw attention to ourselves. Or attention to myself, as I’m sure many of those around us may have assumed one or two things.

It was only when we stood up to leave, and I hobbled towards the door, that there was a moment of silence. Tomira grabbed my hand, no doubt worried something would start, perhaps someone would approach, trying to blame me for everything that happened. Many men and boys who would have lived in this one village had likely never come home.

“You a soldier?” a man asked from a table I was walking past.

“Soldier? No, I’m not a soldier. Or I’m not anymore.”

“Where were you wounded?”

I gestured in the direction of the battlefield. “Somewhere that way.”

“You’re one of the lucky ones,” he muttered, “We lost a lot of good men.”

“I know. I’m lucky to be alive.”

“Watch yourself around the Black Ones. They’re looking for anyone who may have been in uniform. Long as you don’t raise a weapon again, they might let you live. But many of our kind has long found themselves tied to the end of a noose.”

“Think that’s what most of us will be doing, those of us that remain. Simply doing what we can to survive.”

We needed a torch to guide us back towards her homestead, walking around to light a whole bunch of candles, before she asked if I wanted a nightcap before heading to bed. It sounded like a fine idea, eventually sitting side by side at the table, sharing a bottle of vodka. “So what’s your story?” I finally asked, “I’ve spent time talking about me. Considering you’ve spent over a week making sure I survive, I would assume you at least have some training.”

“I trained to be a healer at the Temple of Melitele in Ellander. Have you heard of it?”

“Heard of it, never been there myself.”

“Well, it didn’t work out. I met a boy and thought leaving with him was a good idea. It was a brief, passionate affair, but he eventually left. When I tried to return, the temple wouldn’t take me back, my parents didn’t say a word to me, simply gave me a cloak and coin, and sent me out into the world. After managing to survive on the road, I eventually made myself a life here as the village herbalist. The locals at least appreciate the fact I can keep them relatively healthy, and the Black Ones have left me alone so far.”

“You prefer the quiet life? The likes of Novigrad or Vizima never appealed?”

“No, I figured my talents would be more useful somewhere like here rather than in a larger city. Plus, I can get access to ingredients far quicker. I have my little gardens outside. And all I need do is walk ten or so minutes to access even more. I like my life here, Ragnar. I’m kept busy enough and I do prefer the quiet life. Your arrival was perhaps the closest I’ve come to any real danger in a long time.”

“I’ll try not to ruin your quiet life for too long.”

“You can stay as long as you need, Ragnar. Sure, you’ve spent most of your time here unconscious, but I’m used to having you around already.”

“That leads me to ask about the sleeping arrangement.”

“I’ve slept beside you. Of course, you wouldn’t have noticed considering your condition.”

“Well, I’ll notice now!”

“Just keep those hands of yours to yourself and we’ll be fine, Ragnar.”

I gave her a sideways glance. “I’ll try and behave.”

Enjoying a couple more drinks, we eventually headed to bed. As it was in the corner of the room, I took the side closest to the wall, Tomira keeping on a shirt as she lifted the thick blanket and slid into bed next to me. Within a couple of minutes, she was definitely shuffling closer to me. “I did find you incredibly warm, Ragnar,” she whispered, “I did wake up more than once… you know…”

I leaned closer to her. “Cuddling?”

She laughed lightly. “I’m so glad you were asleep. It was a little embarrassing.”

Having spent over a week asleep, I found drifting off difficult, and was amused when Tomira did end up moving closer to me once she’d fallen asleep. Wrapping an arm around her, her left hand ended up resting on my chest as she shuffled even closer. I did glance down to see her eyes were close, and she appeared to be sleeping… but I’d been fooled before.

But I eventually drifted off myself and it wasn’t a problem.

Tomira did shown concern about me heading towards the battlefield the next morning, but once I showed her that I was capable of magic, her concerns disappeared rather quickly. In fact, I was left thinking she was rather impressed I was capable. Anyone on Tamriel was capable of magic, though most people barely knew even the most basic of spells. I barely used magic myself most of the time, but I was pleased I could still cast a few spells.

The battlefield was a good couple of hours walk away, amazed a pitched battle had taken place so close to the village. From what Tomira was able to tell me, the screams of the dying had been heard for days afterwards, everyone having remained indoors as the battle had taken place.

It was a mudbath, the turf having been torn up by the horses. I knew we’d been positioned on a flank, that the main body of our army had been a couple of kilometres away. That didn’t make our part of the battlefield any less deadly. And while the majority of our army stood on foot, most of those around me nothing more than farmers, miners and labourers, the Black Ones had charged at us on horseback, and only after their charge did the bulk of their army move forward.

There were far more bodies of people I had fought alongside than those of the Black Ones. And there were plenty of supplies, picking up numerous swords, checking the blade for damage, making sure the weight felt right for my hand. I probably checked through half a dozen before I found a sword that pleased me. I didn’t both picking up any armour. I’d never worn heavy armour. Back in Skyrim, I’d always preferred leather armour, or at least anything light. I might have been a big guy, but I had always preferred manoeuvrability as I relied on my own strength to overpower the enemy. I did find a few more things I wanted, such as a sheathe for my sword and a shield with no markings.

Finding a body wearing sort of armour I preferred, I checked to see the damage, trying not to look at the face and the wide white eyes staring blankly ahead. Glancing around to make sure I was alone, I stripped the body of armour, figuring I would wash and soak it before I even contemplated wearing it.

Busy still wandering around, the fact there were ghouls enjoying quite the meal wasn’t a surprise. Villagers would usually head out to a battlefield to gather supplies and slowly bury or burn the dead, but considering the number of bodies around me, it wasn’t a real surprise they hadn’t really bothered. Must have easily numbered a couple of hundred.

But I didn’t like the idea of my fellow soldiers being eaten. I didn’t have a silver sword, but I knew ghouls hated flames. Most monsters hated flames.

“Hey, fuckers!” I called out to them.

The trio lifted their heads, looked my way and growled. They were horrific looking things, their mouths ringed with blood, dripping down their chins, hands covered in the skin and muscle of torn apart dead bodies.

I waited until they started running towards me before I grinned to myself as they would have had no idea what was coming. Didn’t use my sword. Didn’t use magic. I figured I’d use something I very rarely used.

“YOL – TOOR – SHUL”

The three ghouls found themselves enveloped in flames, their screams echoing around the otherwise silent battlefield. Two of them died, the last somehow staying alive. Without silver, I couldn’t kill it by the blade, so summoned my magic and burned it until it was crispy, doing the same to the other two bodies. If a pack of ghouls was around, I knew there’d be a nest nearby so knew I’d have to put up a notice in the village, warning people to steer clear of the area.

It was late afternoon when I returned to the homestead. Tomira had obviously been busy at work, as she had small jars on the table, some already filled with whatever potions she was putting together. Placing the sword and shield I taken down by door, I placed everything else I’d gathered on the floor as she hovered nearby.

“Is the leather wet?”

“Aye, a little.”

“Best let it dry out first. Then we’ll need to apply some oils, and I’ll check over the seams, make sure it’s still strong. I know a few tricks about ensuring it will remain as strong as it ever was. As for the bloodstains… Well, I guess I could add colour so the colours will mesh?”

“Thanks, that’ll do nicely, though I just hope it fits. Didn’t particularly want to try it on considering it’s soaked in blood. I’ll also want to put a notice up in the village as I dealt with a few ghouls, but no doubt they’re everywhere around other battlefields.”

“They’ll be a problem until all the bodies are gone.”

“That leaves everyone two options. One, head out there during daylight hours and take care of them. The ghouls I found were near their nest, and considering it’s a rather dismal day, not a surprise to find them outside now. Two, leave the bodies but just avoid the area. It’s up to everyone else, I guess.”

Heading to the tavern again that evening, we posted a warning on the notice board, informing the peasants that the battlefield was now full of ghouls, so they had best avoid the area. We knew plenty would ignore the warning, falling on deaf ears, but I wasn’t going to make it my problem. After taking a seat, this time we shared a roast chicken between us, enjoying a couple of tankards. The atmosphere will still quiet, hearing the numerous complaints about the Black Ones now being in charge, though there was no shouting, as there were Nilfgaard soldiers patrolling the muddy roads around the village.

Walking back home later that evening, Tomira took my hand and we strolled, a cloudless night, a near full moon and plenty of stars twinkling above. Feeling her slightly mould into my side, I glanced down though she didn’t look up at me. Not yet anyway, but it felt good just to have that human contact again.

Entering the house, she locked the door as I started the fire to keep the house warm as we slept. Once that was roaring, I turned back to see her leaning back against the door, watching me with interest. I just returned her gaze before she seemed to make a decision, slowly walking towards me before standing up on her tiptoes and leaning up to kiss me. Knowing it was coming, I made sure I replied in kind, arms immediately pulling her against me, the giggle that escaped her a delightful sound.

She eventually pulled back, slight colour in her cheeks, her blue eyes still looking into mine. “Can I admit something, Ragnar?”

“Sure.”

“Been wanting to do that since I washed all the blood off you. I thought ‘Wow, that’s a rather handsome man who just happened to land in my bed’. I can only hope you find no reason to leave just yet.”

“I don’t have any coin.” That made her chuckle again. “And I wouldn’t know where to go anyway. So I guess you’ll have to put up with me for at least a little longer.”

That was the right thing to say, as the kiss resumed, quickly turning the sort of steamy, passionate kiss that I knew wouldn’t just end with a simple kiss. Managing to manoeuvre our way into the bedroom, we slowly helped each other undress. She’d obviously seen me without clothing before, so I certainly enjoyed undressing her. She was quite pale, and the skin that didn’t see much skin at all was almost milky white. Perfect pair of breasts and, after removing her underwear, a tuft of hair above her pussy.

“It’s been a long time, Ragnar,” she whispered, “I’m only a herbalist, but even that scares off most potential lovers.”

“All I know is that you could brew me up something to keep me going for a lot longer.”

“Is that a problem?” she asked, a smirk appearing.

“Gods no, definitely not. Just an example.”

Tumbling into bed together, I’d obviously thought about this exact moment from the moment I’d woken up the second time around as there was no doubting she was attractive. And I definitely enjoyed giving attention to her body. She did as well, those light moans she released as my tongue found a hardened nipple, my fingers gently fondling her wet pussy, and the way she breathed my name as her desire increased only turned me on even further.

Kissing down her soft body, slowly spreading her legs to reveal her sex, I could have inhaled her scent, which made my cock simply throb with anticipation. But like with nearly all my lovers, I wanted to taste her first before anything. It wasn’t something all men did, as I’d learned since my arrival, but I’d spent plenty of time with my face between the legs of numerous lovers, and that generally led to an invite for more pleasure at a later time.

Tomira certainly enjoyed what I was doing within a matter of minutes, her body writing at what my tongue was doing, her back arching slightly as she released quiet cries. Wrapping an arm around each thigh, I had to almost hold her in place as my teasing was relentless. She knew her own body though, and knew the right time for me to move attention to her clit. So that’s when I thought I’d slide a couple of fingers inside her, making her lift her head and gaze down at me with her eyes wide, lust and desire the only emotions on display.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned quietly as my fingers quickly found that special spot. And with the attention on her clit, I’m not being arrogant when I suggest her orgasm was guaranteed.

When she did orgasm, her cries were particularly loud. Anyone walking by might have been left thinking she was either in the throes of passion… or something rather nefarious was taking place inside. Sensing it had been quite a powerful one, I slowly relented, simply kissing up and down her thighs before moving back up her body, watching her chest rise and fall rapidly, before resting on my forearms, her cheeks with more colour than I’d seen up until that moment.

Opening her eyes, her fingers immediately ran through my long hair. “Wow,” she whispered, “You seem to enjoy doing that.”

“Sex should be enjoyable, and one thing I’ve always loved is watching and hearing my lover orgasm.”

That made an eyebrow arch. “I take it you’ve had a few?”

“Maybe.”

That made her chuckle, feeling her other hand run up and down my back. “I bet if you can do something like that to them.” She took a deep breath. “Do you want… the favour returned? I know that’s a corny question…”

“No, it isn’t. But no, you don’t.” I ran the head of my cock along her slit, provoking a smile from her. “I’m a very simple man, Tomira. And I enjoy the simple pleasures of life.”

Her hand moved down to my arse, a subtle gesture of what she wanted as well. I’ll admit to releasing a groan of myself as I gently slid my cock inside her. Any woman who was warm, wet and willing would earn that sort of appreciative groan. The gods had blessed me with a few gifts, and one was the fact I’d always been larger than most men in one regard or another. But she certainly seemed to like what was inside her, as the broad grin that slowly formed before I buried my length told me everything.

Leaning down to kiss her, I would say it was a mixture of fucking and making love that followed. I wasn’t one of those men that just pounded without any thought as to her enjoyment, unless that’s what she wanted. I loved a woman who just grabbed the back of my head and growled, “Just fuck me.” At least I knew what they wanted then.

Tomira loved running her fingers up and down my back, digging them in from time to time when she was getting carried away like myself, and when I felt her place a hell of my back, changing the angle of my thrusts slightly, that provoke quite the moan from her. “Yes, right there,” she whispered.

Having been so long since I’d last had sex, I… didn’t last too long that first time around. Tomira seemed to like the idea she’d been the reason why, though, as I found myself wrapped in arms and legs, whispered words in my ear. “Definitely need to take a potion in the morning,” she joked, causing me to laugh at the same time, before lifting my head up so I could kiss her. “Unless you need another potion now for a reason?”

“Oh, give me ten minutes, Tomira…”

Ten minutes later, Tomira was straddling my lap, now my hands exploring her body, my cock buried inside her once again, and I knew I was going to enjoy watching her ride me for however long this lasted. I don’t mean that night, I meant for however long I remained in White Orchard. I think we both knew, at heart, it was only going to be temporary, but there was an attraction, and the one thing I’d learned since arriving on the Continent was the liberal attitude towards sex. A reminder of my homeland, in many ways.

Tomira definitely enjoyed riding me, and I think the fact she enjoyed another orgasm while riding me that first surprised her before she leaned down and gave me one hell of a kiss. “First time for everything,” she murmured, “I want another one!”

“My cock is yours to enjoy, Tomira,” I whispered.

And enjoy it she did over the next hour or so, relieved I’d cum so quickly the first time. She was certainly beautiful while riding me, watching how her body would react with each subtle change of position, the sounds she made as she changed the tempo over her movements, and she made sure my hands never left her body, one way or another.

Only when I came inside her a second time did we finally slow down and eventually stop, my fingers running up and down her back as we continued to kiss, the occasional grab of her arse making her smile. “Well, I’m glad we did that,” she whispered a little later, after cleaning up and now spooning against me.

"Definitely no complaints from me either.”

My life for the next few days was rather relaxing. To make a little coin, or at least payment in some form or another, I turned into some sort of farmer as I helped tend to crops on the farms that dotted the countryside. I did keep an eye on the notice board for any jobs that I would be better at trying to complete, but there was nothing so far. I’d head out early each morning to find something to keep me occupied, return each night to Tomira, where we would either walk to the tavern, or she’d cook dinner, and then we’d make love before going to sleep.

A few days later I was enjoying lunch in the tavern, having now made a few coins, generally from helping people rebuild homes and barns that had been destroyed rather than tending any fields. I was busy tucking into a hot bowl of stew, chatting with a couple of local peasants who now recognised me, when a couple of strangers walked in and approached the bar. Even though they didn’t turn around, I recognised both of them immediately though I hadn’t seen them in quite a while now.

Standing up, I approached them as silently as I could. Having been given a tankard of ale each, they turned around and I almost laughed as one of them almost dropped their tankard in surprise.

“White wolf,” I stated, offering my hand.

“Dragonborn,” Geralt stated, accepting my hand, “The fuck are you doing here?”


	2. Favour for a Favour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to add some more thoughts to those I put at the start of the first chapter:
> 
> Obviously for all of my ideas to work, I will have to change a few things, perhaps mould characters slightly to fit the narrative I want for Ragnar. (One glaring one will be Geralt being mostly monogamous in regards to Yennefer, only sleeping with working girls, so certain relationships from the original Witcher, and also Witcher 2, won’t appear for him. Um, is it obvious why I’d do that regarding Ragnar and his love for redheads…? And also the fact that, instead of Geralt, Ragnar will be shagging his way around the Continent…?)
> 
> But no matter what, this will still follow the overarching plot of Witcher 3, with my own thoughts and ideas in addition to that. I’ll be honest, I just can’t be bothered doing something completely original, mostly as I don’t have the time to do something on such a scale, so will at least try and make something interesting based on the story presented in the game.
> 
> One thing I will be trying to do is not include much game dialogue at all. No-one wants to read just a re-hash of what they read and hear for hours upon hours in the game, and as Ragnar is involved, it should lend itself to original dialogue. I will borrow bits and pieces here and there, where it makes sense.

I took a sip of my tankard as Geralt explained everything. Vesemir was quiet as always. He only spoke when his voice was needed, usually when advice was to be given and, more importantly, listened to. “So I’m looking for Yennefer is the crux of the matter, Ragnar. Don’t suppose you’ve seen her ride through here?”

“Raven-haired beauty like her, dressed all in black, no doubt?” The smirk appeared on his face. I was one of the few he’d trusted with most of the story about them, how their lives were so inextricably linked together. “I’m sure I wouldn’t have been the only one to notice her walk or ride through this place. How long have you been tracking her?”

“Not so much tracking. I received a letter from her, asking to meet in Willoughby. We heard news that the town had been burned to the ground during a recent battle, so we have tried picking up her trail, ended up here.”

“What are you doing here anyway, Dragonborn?” Vesemir asked.

“I was part of the army that just got smashed to pieces. I could show you a few of the scars I was left with. Currently shacked up with the herbalist who has taken care of me.” Both men gave me the sort of grin even without any sort of insinuation on my part. “To be honest, I’ve been a little lost as to what to do. Don’t particularly trust any Black One not to try and strike me down if I were to wander around with a weapon.”

“We haven’t had too many problems though I guess our medallions give away who we are,” Geralt stated.

“Heard about griffin attacks?” Vesemir wondered.

“Aye, a few peasants have mentioned of something making life more of a misery. No-one has posted a notice about it though.”

“It was suggested we go speak to the local garrison,” Geralt added, “Might be work for you there too.”

“If I show up with a weapon and in armour…”

“Never took you to be so overly concerned, Ragnar,” Vesemir stated.

“My memory of the battle is fuzzy, Vesemir. But what I do know is that I’m lucky to be alive. It’s only thanks to Tomira that I can sit here with you now.”

“She the herbalist you’re bedding?” Geralt asked.

“Aye.”

“We’re going to camp nearby and likely see the Black Ones about the griffin. You should come with us tomorrow,” Vesemir suggested, “Better than doing whatever it is your doing now.”

“Woodwork and construction. Bit of farming too.” That made the two men opposite chuckle. “Considering I spent over a week unconscious, and a couple of those days fighting off death, I’m just happy to be up and walking around. I’m sure you’ve been past a battlefield or two.”

“We’ve ridden past a couple of them,” Vesemir murmured, “Black Ones on the Pontar. Northern Kingdoms are on the brink. If they manage to cross…”

“It’s not our fight,” Geralt muttered.

“We might not be political but I don’t like the idea of them dominating the Continent,” Vesemir retorted, “Ragnar here is a stranger to our world and he picked up a weapon to fight for what was right.”

“Something about them just rubs me the wrong way,” I admitted, “But I hear rumours of what’s going on up north over the river. Only rumours, but they’re still disconcerting. But that’s for another time. Let’s get back why you’re here. Yennefer. Any idea where she might be?”

Both men shrugged their shoulders. “We’ll pick up her trail,” Geralt replied, “We have a habit of finding each other. No doubt I’ll stumble into her soon enough.”

“If you’re going to see the Nilfgaard garrison tomorrow morning, I’ll meet you here and we’ll go together,” I suggested, both men nodding, “I do need some coin. Don’t particularly want to leave Tomira…”

“You’re getting comfortable, Ragnar. I’m not sure that’s a good thing or not,” Vesemir stated.

“You’ll get bored soon enough,” Geralt added, “She a redhead?” I shook my head. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

I polished off my tankard and stood up. “I’ll see you here in the morning. I don’t have a horse at the moment so we’ll have to walk.”

“We’ll have to rectify that when you’ll eventually want to leave,” Geralt said, “But we’ll meet you outside in the morning.”

I finished up my beer, bid the pair goodbye, and immediately heading back to Tomira. She knew me well enough already to know something was on my mind when I sat down the at the table, unsure how best to say. So I eventually took a breath and said, “A couple of people I know, guess I could call them friends, arrived in White Orchard just now. They’re camping nearby.”

“Oh, are they soldiers?”

“Not exactly. They’re witchers.”

“Witchers?” she asked in surprise, probably for the fact I knew anyway, “What brings them here?”

“One of them is searching for someone. They were supposed to meet elsewhere, but the plan went awry, so they’re hoping to track her down. Dumb luck I just happened to meet them in the tavern.”

“How do you know two witchers?”

“It’s a long story, but part of how I arrived here is when I met them.” I thought about and took a chance. “Don’t suppose you’ve heard stories of the White Wolf?”

“Otherwise known as Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken? Aye, I’ve heard of him alright. He was once a regular visitor to the temple, though I never met him myself. Plenty of folk have heard of the stories and songs about him though. I’m amazed you know him personally.”

“Part of that long story of how we met. Anyway, he’s one of the two witchers I just met now. And if they’re here, that is the gods telling me that…”

“Your time here is drawing to a close.” She didn’t sound sad, nor relived. She was being realistic. We both knew I would not be staying permanently.

“We’re going to the garrison north of here tomorrow. They’re going to look into dealing with a griffin nearby. I’m going to see if I can make a little coin, hopefully get my hands on a horse. I don’t like the idea of dealing with the Black Ones, but I guess I’d best get used to the idea south of the Pontar.”

“Temeria no longer exists, Ragnar. We’re in Nilfgaard now. And unless something drastic happens, I don’t see it changing anytime soon. Best we just accept it and get on with our lives.” She sat next to me on the bench and leaned into me. “You won’t be going too quickly though, will you?”

“I’m sure I’ll be around for a few more days, at least.”

“Best make use of the time we have left together then.”

I glanced and gazed into her eyes. There was only one thing she wanted then and there. Five minutes later, she was naked on her back, one hand running through my hair, fingers of her other hand pressing into my back, her heels resting just above my arse as we made love. Mouths only parting when we needed to take a deep breath. She never stopped looking at me, as much as I returned her gaze. I’d felt this connection often with any lover. I’d always fallen in love very easily, but I’d rarely committed despite the deep feelings I would experience. It perhaps helped I was rarely in one place for too long, so the romances were always passionate, intense, but also brief before I moved on.

“Make sure you come back each night if you can,” she whispered.

“For more of this?”

“Gods yes,” she replied with a chuckle, “Go a while without sex, you forget how bloody good it feels.”

I leaned down close to her ear, making her shudder as hot breath met her neck. I’d discovered it was a sensitive area that she loved me kissing, perhaps biting gently, but even just breathing on it was enough. “Would you like me to use my mouth too?” I breathed.

“I’d love a whole night of it.”

“I swear you can sometimes read my mind, Tomira.”

That earned me one of those smiles I always liked to see before she kissed me again. Our eyes met again, and the look in her eyes was also one I loved to see. No verbal communication needed as I started to pump her a little faster, the next kiss harder, the fingers at the back of my head holding my head tighter, her heels digging into my lower back even more. I groaned more than once as I could feel my orgasm building. She hadn’t had one yet, but knew that, after I’d cum, I’d recover quickly and she could ride me to as many as she wanted.

Groaning as I came inside her, a few slow, deep thrusts before I finally stilled, resting myself above her as she gave me a gentle squeeze, feeling her nuzzle into my neck. I needed to move, feeling her legs release me as I pulled out and gently lowered myself onto my back, Tomira turning onto her side, cuddling into me, her fingers immediately trailing up and down my chest. “Are all Nordic men from your homeland like you?”

“Some, perhaps.”

“Well, I can only thanks all the gods I can think of that they sent you here, at least.”

She gave me all of five minutes before her hand moved down my body to my cock, the smile on her face broadening as she realised I was just as hard as before, swinging a leg over my body and slowly sliding down my cock, leaning down to give me a soft kiss.

Then she rode me hard and fast, her only intent to orgasm as quickly as possible, then she’d simply enjoy riding my cock for a lot longer after that. I have no idea how long she did, my hands enjoying the soft contours of her body, sitting up to definitely enjoying sucking at her breasts, which she certainly enjoyed as her hands held my head in place, plenty of soft moans escaping her.

And we certainly made each other smile as our last orgasm was almost shared at the same time, and certainly enough that had me lying back, feeling rather breathless, while she laid on my chest, her head just under my chin, this time my fingers trailing up and down her spine. “Definitely miss this,” she whispered.

“Which part?”

“Oh, the fact I’ve just had quite a few orgasms but now you just hold me like this, your fingers proving very gentle on my body.”

“If I ever find myself in the area again…”

“Ragnar, if the gods were to be that kind, there would only ever be one place you would be staying. In this house. In this bed. And preferably you would be inside me for at least part of your visit.” I chuckled at how adamant she was about all of that. She lifted herself up and we shared another kiss. “But we still have time before you leave, so this isn’t our last time we are intimate. Just don’t do anything like going and getting yourself killed. And I’d rather not have you lying unconscious here again either.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The next morning, I put on the leather armour I’d found, sheathed my sword and placed the shield on my back as I walked towards the tavern. Geralt and Vesemir were already waiting for me, and both of them didn’t look particularly pleased. They never looked worried, but looking displeased suggested they had concerns. I didn’t even need to ask. I knew what most people thought of witchers.

“Locals given you any trouble yet?” I asked.

“One or two have tried their luck,” Vesemir replied, “We just don’t rise to their bait. Even if we kill the griffin, it’s unlikely they’ll show any gratitude.”

“Ragnar, you and I will go see the Black Ones,” Geralt added, “Vesemir will wait here for now.”

I glanced at the old man. “Took a hit on my shoulder on the way here. Best give it as much rest as possible before we look at taking on the griffin.”

“While you’re doing that, I’ll see what other work they might have for me. I’ll leave witcher work to those trained for it.”

“You’ve killed your share of monsters, Ragnar,” Geralt stated.

“Aye, that is true, but I’m not carrying any silver right now. And, as I said, I will generally leave it to the experts. Ghouls and drowners I can handle. Just take a silver sword and stab the fuckers. But some of the monsters you deal with are beyond my expertise.”

“Shame you were too old when you landed near Kaer Morhan. Considering your skill with a sword,” Vesemir started but trailed off. I’d heard it often enough by now.

“Aye, I thought fighting dragons was bad enough. End up here and find a world just full of monsters. Think it’s the Nine having a laugh at my expense for some reason.”

Geralt turned to Vesemir. “We’ll be back later.”

The old man nodded, Geralt and I heading off. I’d learned long ago that Geralt of Rivia wasn’t what I would call a conversationalist, generally making do with grunts and, if necessary, a short sentence. Despite what people thought, though, he wasn’t an emotionless. I’d seen the man show more heart in certain situations than anyone else considered human. But he also showed no pity and absolutely no mercy when it was required.

“Never thought I’d find you around here,” he stated after at least an hour of silence.

“I could ask what you’ve been up to but…”

“It’s a long story. When were you last in Vizima?”

“That’s where I finally joined up with the army. We kept being pushed north before the Black Ones finally smashed us to bits.”

“Considering your gift…”

“You know I don’t use it, Geralt. Shit, if I did, two things. One, I don’t think I would have changed the outcome of the battle, though perhaps killed a few more of the enemy. And, two, I have no doubt the Black Ones would have killed me then and there once they found my body, or strung me up on one of the gallows you’ve no doubt seen. You know I’m not a one-man army. Never did anything back home by myself. Was always surrounded by friends and allies.”

“When did you last see Vernon?”

“Fuck… weeks, at least. No doubt he’s carrying on some sort of guerrilla campaign but I don’t have much hope for the man. From what I’ve heard, the Black Ones are hunting down any spies or special forces operatives that might be working in secret.”

Geralt remained silent for a while again, though I knew he had one question forming in his mind. Though he was naturally worried about Yennefer, he knew about my penchant for… well, having any number of lovers. And quite a number of my lovers were sorceresses, if you’re being polite, or witches, if you are not. “Heard from anyone of the Lodge?” he finally asked.

“Spread to the five winds is all I know. I’ve heard rumours of what’s happening north of the river. Hard not to, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I naturally worry about friends and lovers, but most of them are capable enough of looking after themselves.”

He just grunted at me, and that was the end of the conversation. I had no doubt he probably knew a lot more than myself. I’d been so busy preparing for battle, then recovering, it had been a few months since my life had been anything but that. And our last meeting had been… I tried to think of when we’d last seen each other. It had been some time. Our paths had a habit of crossing, but we rarely travelled together for too long.

The Nilfgaard garrison was positioned one of the few major hills in the area, guarding the most important river crossing in the area, based in the remains of what I assumed was once a fortress. I knew that it had been in the hand of Temerian forces until recently, so wasn’t surprised Nilfgaard took it for themselves as it provided a perfect view of the surrounding area.

I was rather surprised that they just let us stride up without being stopped, but with his two swords on his back, his white hair, and his eyes, most people could figure Geralt within seconds of meeting him, or assume who or what he was on approach. Not having two swords, with long blonde hair and beard, and being slightly taller than him, I certainly earned more suspicious glances.

Climbing the stairs towards the gate leading into the garrison itself, the guards were naturally uncooperative, but Geralt managed to talk his way in. I’d been with him often enough to know that he did have at least one or two diplomatic bones in his body. He didn’t sweet talk, he just used logic. Help me, help you, kind of thing.

The invaders had certainly made themselves at home. There were guards posted everywhere on lookout duty, other men were either sleeping, eating, or relaxing. Others were hard at work. The battle might have been over, the war on hiatus, but that didn’t mean the work stopped. Everyone knew that Nilfgaard had ambitions to push even further north.

I felt the stares of many of those that we passed as we were pointed in the direction of the commander. Geralt always drew stares anyway, but even the thickest of Nilfgaardian soldier would look at me, put two and two together, and would wonder why I was now walking alongside a witcher in the direction of their commander. I certainly sensed the presence of more than one follow, and Geralt glanced at me as he no doubt heard a weapon or two readied, just in case.

The commanding officer of the garrison was busy with another peasant, talking about grain or something or other, I tuned out, leaning against the wall, until their conversation was finished. He looked up and gestured us forwards once the peasant had walked by us, muttering to himself.

He looked between us before his eyes stopped. “Who are you?”

“Geralt of Rivia. I’m a witcher.”

“A vatt’ghern? What brings you to my humble garrison?”

“Favour for a favour. I’m looking for someone. Yennefer of Vengerberg.” Even I noticed his eyes. He recognised the name immediately. “But I know you won’t just hand that over without something in trade. And I know what you’re going to ask.”

He nodded, understanding the insinuation. Hands behind his back, he stood a little straighter. “Captain Peter Saar Gwynleve. Despite what many think of us, we are not monsters. I have been placed in charge of this region and will work to ensure the peasants are kept safe. I am a farmer myself, but I chose to serve Nilfgaard and its emperor when called upon.”

“Fine words, can you live up to the ideal?” I asked.

He glanced my way but didn’t reply. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the griffin bringing terror to the region, vatt’ghern. So, as you said, a favour for a favour. You take care of the griffin, I will provide you the information you seek regarding Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

“Who are you?” he asked, “You are no witcher.”

“Ragnar Dragonborn.”

“Interesting name. One I have read about it in dispatches. You have a reputation as a mercenary.”

“Aye, I won’t deny I’ve fought for coin. I’ll also do jobs for coin.”

“You fought with the Temerians?”

“Aye, I was lucky to survive, unlike plenty of poor bastards on either side.”

His eyes moved to the sword, sheathed at my hip. “Many would be concerned about someone who fought for our enemy showing up in our garrison armed.”

“The war is over, captain. Temeria no longer exists, and my allegiance ended with their defeat. So I come to offer my services, purely as a way of making coin.”

“Hmmm. Rare I’d hear such honesty.” He looked down at the map on his desk, looked back up at me, the map again, before he nodded to himself. “Bandits are making lives difficult for both my soldiers and the local peasantry. Some might be deserted soldiers, others might just be criminals taking advantage of the lack of law and order as we try and restore it.” He gestured me closer. “We’ve had reported of bandits in these areas here, here and here. Would it bother you if you were to eliminate them, even if they were those you served alongside?”

“Most of them are dead, captain. You’ve seen the battlefield nearby?”

“I have. It is yet another scene of horror.”

“That’s where they dragged my body out of. Those I fought alongside? I believe most if not all of them died. Any that lived would have been smart and escaped the area.”

“You’re still here,” he retorted.

“I was unconscious for over a week, and I’m still nursing wounds. I didn’t really have a choice. As for these bandits, I don’t like the idea of them attacking the peasantry. Their lives are difficult enough as it is. Consider it done, captain.”

“I help with that, you can help with the griffin,” Geralt added.

“I was going to suggest we handle them separately…”

“You’re only one man, with how knows how many bandits. Best I join you.” He looked at the captain. “Consider both jobs done. We’ll return when the griffin is dead.”

Captain Gwynleve rolled up the map, not surprised he had more than one copy lying underneath, offering it to us. “Bandit camps are noted on the map for you, Dragonborn, but also notes in regards to griffin sightings, vatt’ghern.”

“Thanks,” Geralt stated, and we headed out without another word.

Once we were back down the stairs and a few metres away, he unrolled the map as we figured out our position compared to the nearest bandit camp. We figured it wouldn’t take too long to approach the first one, buried in the middle of a nearby wood as it was. This wasn’t the time for conversation as we followed the path until Geralt stopped and listened, gesturing that we should head into the woods.

For a big man, I liked to think I could be quiet when required, but Geralt was something else entirely. Could have been a silent assassin the way he could move so silently. Taking cover behind some trees, we could see half a dozen men ahead, four sat around a campfire, two apparently on lookout, but they were relaxed.

Geralt and I shared a couple of gestures. We’d done this enough to know how the other worked. He was an artist with the sword, all technique. I… wasn’t like that. I had skill, but we were different. It usually helped when it came to dealing with a group of bandits, mercenaries and whatever else we might end up fighting.

In the end, we went with the charge and catch them by surprise. He headed for one lookout, I headed for the other. He barely had enough time to get himself ready before I was swinging my sword, and he went down in one swing of my blade. The other four reacted quickly, but I was upon the next one, my first swing blocked before I practically leapt forward, putting my fist into his face, then stepping to block the sword that came towards me. Fighting two is never a good idea, but when fighting bandits, it was simply keeping your wits, and trying to kill one of them quickly… which I did.

I could hear Geralt fighting off the other one or two. If anything, he would have killed one already, so I could just focus on the last bandit I had to deal with. He wasn’t wearing any armour, and I could see the tattoos covering his body. His face was dirty, missing a couple of teeth, plenty of scars. I figured he wasn’t a former soldier. There wasn’t the sort of training I’d expect.

"Fuckin’ cunt,” he cried, his sword swinging wildly, “I’ll fuckin’ have your guts in a second.”

“You a soldier?”

“What?”

“Were you a soldier?”

“No, I wasn’t a fuckin’ soldier.”

“Good.”

I took his head within three seconds. It’s not something you generally try and do, most decapitations generally happen either through luck, or the opponent is disarmed and on his knees. But just occasionally, I loved nothing more than taking the head of some piece of shit bandit.

“Piss you off, Ragnar?”

“Nothing but a mouthy gobshite.”

“We’ll go handle one more camp, then we’ll call it a day. Tomorrow, Vesemir and I will head off to take care of the griffin. Can you handle the last one…?”

“Aye, sword and magic will suffice.”

The next bandit camp was in the hills to the north of White Orchard. We recognised they were easily going to see us coming, so we walked along with weapons in hand, hoping they might just come charging towards us. That might put us on the back foot, but Geralt and I would just use magic to control while we struck with our weapons.

Geralt then shouldered me aside and lifted his sword to deflect an arrow that was fired in our direction. We both knew not to charge up a hill, so we simply slowed our steps further, and we could both see the lone archer in the distance. As soon as I felt I was in distance, I grinned to myself as I summoned a spell I knew few would use here.

An ice spike flew from my hand, covering the short distance within perhaps half a second, burying itself in his chest.

“What the fuck?” one of the bandits called.

Geralt and I shared a glance, grinned perhaps a little evilly, before we then unloaded a fire spell each. His fire spell was different to mine, but the effect was the same in that it caused an element of fear to immediately spread across the enemy, a couple dropping their weapons and running. The three remaining chose to stand and fight. Two against three might have seemed unfair to others.

We made easy work of them. That’s not being arrogant, it’s merely stating fact. Again, I was left thinking they were not ex-soldiers, and as we searched their camp afterwards, there was nothing to indicate they had once served in the Temerian Army. There were boxes and packages of supplies, enough to suggest they had been interrupting transports, just as Captain Gwynleve had suggested. Had they been bothering the peasants? It’s possible they’d been stealing crops and sheep, but we didn’t find any carcasses around, at least.

“Fuck it, let’s head back,” Geralt muttered.

It was a good hour or two walk back to the centre of the village, Vesemir inside the tavern, nursing a tankard of ale. The lady behind the bar brought us a round of drinks as Vesemir and Geralt discussed the griffin issue. I listened in, but I wasn’t going to involve myself. Taking on a griffin was outside my expertise, at least in regards to oils I might apply to my blade or any sort of decoction I might take.

We didn’t need to discuss much of a plan. They would spend the next day tracking the griffin and, with any luck, would have it handled by sunset. I would head off to take care of the last bandit camp. Part of me hoped they would be deserters rather than just regular bandits. Deserters might, just might, be willing to talk and I could at least give them warning to move on. I had no doubt the Nilfgaardians would eventually sweep through, dealing with anyone causing problems.

“We should meet here morning after tomorrow, if you’re planning on joining us, Dragonborn,” Vesemir stated.

“Ragnar, Vesemir.”

“Merely respect. I’m one of the few that has seen your gift and likely lived to tell the tale. Still choosing not to use it?”

“I like think I’m a man of honour, at least nowadays. I gave my word to them and I’m doing my best to keep it, most of the time. That’s not to say I won’t use it, but I certainly limit myself when dealing with my fellow man. I will trust in my sword.”

“I can respect that, Dragonborn. I’ve seen you in action.”

“As to your idea, I’ll enjoy a couple of nights with Tomira before departing. What’s the plan though?”

Vesemir looked at Geralt. He simply shrugged. “Guess it depends on what the captain tells us. I have no doubt he knows exactly where she is.”

I enjoyed the tankard with the pair before heading out. Tomira was busy at the stove when I walked in the door, and it felt rather domestic as, after lying my sword and shield by the door, she walked over to give me one hell of a kiss before wrapping her arms tight around me. Caressing her face, I met her eyes and… she knew. “When do you leave?”

“Two more nights with you… then I’m going to join them on the Path for a while. I’m a warrior, Tomira.”

That made her smile. “I know you are, Ragnar.”

“I’d ask you to come along but… I know your life is here.”

“It is. I’m happy here.” She leaned up to kiss me. “Plus I don’t particularly like the idea of sharing.”

“Ah…”

“You’re easy to figure out, Ragnar, though you’ve also been honest. But I’m going to have some fantastic memories of your time here, and not just about the sex either.”

“Speaking of sex…”

That made her laugh lightly. “Eat first, I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Famished actually.”

“Good. I’ve cooked us a nice stew, there’s a bottle of Erveluce we can share… then we can head to bed for a night of lovemaking.”

“When you put it like that…”

Dinner was ready quickly as I poured us a glass each as Tomira brought over a couple of bowls. We ate slowly, enjoying the wine, conversation flowing easily as always. She would sit and listen with a grin on her face as I regaled her with stories of my time back on Skyrim, whether it was my time battling dragons, or taking part in the civil war, or perhaps the earlier days when I had worked as a thief, even as an assassin.

“You know, I do wonder where you got your hand on a bottle of this,” I stated.

“A lady has to keep at least a few secrets, Ragnar.”

Dinner complete and another glass of wine shared, we headed to bed where we made love for what felt like hours. I showered her soft body with affection, enjoying every inch I could possibly touch. I made her moan. I made her giggle. I made her squeal. Most importantly, I made her cum... definitely more than once, which made me smile to myself. By the time I was empty, and she lay beside me, quivering slightly as she tried to catch her breath, both of us laughing away, she cuddled into me, nuzzling into my neck. “Fuck, I’m going to miss this,” she whispered.

“I’ll miss you,” I whispered back, wrapping an arm around her.

“I’ll try not to cry when you leave.”

I lifted her chin with a finger and could already see the shimmer in her eyes. “No tears, Tomira. Only smiles. We’ve made plenty of good memories since I woke up in your bed.”

“Okay. No tears. Or I’ll do my best.”

After breakfast the next morning, I dressed in my armour, grabbed my weapons, and headed out. Walking around armed and armoured certainly changed the attitude of the local peasants. I would say they were slightly more respectful, even deferential, perhaps thinking I would bring violence to any situation. I don’t think they took me for a Nilfgaardian, but who knows…

It took a nearly all morning to make it to the position of the third camp I knew about. There were plenty of trees and bushes that provided cover, and as isolated as it was, the canopy of trees kept the weather cool and the ground beneath my feet dry. As I slowly made my way closer, I could hear the conversation taking place. And I knew within a few seconds that these men were not bandits.

Making sure my hands were spread wide, I stepped out of cover, hearing their conversation cease and weapons readied. “I come in peace,” I stated loudly.

“Who are you? Why do you approach?” one of them called.

“I am Ragnar Dragonborn. I fought by your side against the Black Ones.”

“Which unit?” another asked.

“Temerian Army. Third Division, First Regiment. We arrived from Vizima and linked up with the Second and Fifth to form the flank north of White Orchard. We were smashed to bits though took a lot of the fuckers with us.”

“Who sent you?” the first one asked.

“The Black Ones. We need to talk.”

I stopped walking around a dozen paces away. The leader was easy to pick out as he still wore the colours. No doubt others were whispering any advice they had, but he eventually gestured for silence before he waved me forward. “Approach. What’s your name?”

“Ragnar. Ragnar Dragonborn.”

“Rank?”

“Never given one. I was a mercenary. I know men such as yourselves may dislike us, but many of us fought and died at your side.”

“Weapons away, men. And trust me on this, Ragnar, we respect any man willing to pick up and fight the Black Ones.”

As weapons were sheathed, I found my hand shaken as I was led towards their campfire, and together we broke bread and shared a drink, the sign that we would not fight. But they were obviously curious as to why I was approaching. Eventually, the leader of this group, who was actually a former captain, asked, “So, why approach us?”

“The Black Ones obviously control the area. Their numbers are still limited, but obviously groups such as yourselves is attracting attention. I’ve already dealt with some bandits with a colleague of mine, but I was hoping I would run into fellow survivors.”

“Obviously you’re not here to fight us so… what?”

“I am sure you are thinking about some sort of guerrilla campaign. I applaud your efforts to continue your fight for a free Temeria, but for the moment, it will be a lost cause, and the Black Ones will eventually start to sweep through the area.”

“We know these woods better than anyone,” one of the others stated, “They won’t find us.”

“Are you suggesting something, Ragnar?” the captain asked.

“Any resistance you offer needs to be organised. Small units like yourselves will be effective but only when working in conjunction with other units. There must be someone who will be leading the campaign against Nilfgaard.”

“Aye, there should be, but considering we’re cut off from any units that might have survived, we can only do what we can here. My men here are all locals. They can still see their families. But they also refuse the idea of surrender. Die on your feet or live on your knees.”

I nodded my understanding. “I can’t tell you what to do. I will let the local garrison believe I’ve killed all the bandit groups. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve never met. But be aware that Nilfgaard obviously have plans for the region, and eventually won’t take kindly to guerrillas running amok in the area. Take the fight to them by all means, but just know there will be consequences. And, more often than not, the consequences are felt by those you are sworn to protect.”

Those last few words resonated with a few of them. You could see it on their faces. No doubt they had family in the village or on one of the farms in the surrounding countryside. Standing up, the captain did the same and offered his hand. “Maybe those of us who are permanent soldiers can move on and link up with any sort of command that remains.”

“The commanding officer in charge around here seems decent enough. So far, few reprisals against the civilians. I’d hate to see the situation change.”

He nodded. “I’ll take your suggestion into consideration, but I cannot walk away from the fight. Not while Temeria is under occupation.”

“I don’t blame you, and I wish you the best in your fight. I hope that, one day, the Three Lilies are flying above Vizima once again.”

I walked away, relieved the meeting went as well and I slowly made my way back to Tomira to enjoy a final night with her.


	3. False Walls

Dinner was practically perfect. It was obvious Tomira had put in every effort possible to make sure everything tasted like it should. The fact she cooked three courses certainly made me feel rather special. The bottles of wine and spirit provided to accompany the meal simply accentuated the taste of all the food prepared.

“What’s for dessert?” I had to ask.

All Tomira did was stand up, undo the knot at the back of her dress by her neck, allowing the dress to pool around her ankles, revealing her pale, naked body. She then made me chuckle as she sat up on the table, shuffling across so she was sat in front of me, before leaning back on her elbows, placing her feet to either side of me. I definitely licked my lips as her excitement was obvious. Lowering my face, I inhaled her scent, which made her giggle. “Hmmm, I think this might be my favourite dish of the night so far,” I said. Corny as hell, but she already knew that about me, and it’s exactly why she was sat like she was now.

“I’ve been excited all through dinner, Ragnar. So many memories already running through my mind.”

“Can make a few more tonight too.”

“So… I’m hoping you might want me for dessert.”

Licking my lips again, I lowered my mouth and ate her out. Gods, I had enjoyed it every time with her. Every woman had a different taste. Every woman reacted differently to what I did. Every woman had those little idiosyncrasies that was always great fun to learn. And I’d had great fun learning everything I could about Tomira’s body, her hidden erogenous zones, the cute little noises she made when getting excited, the way her body reacted, and the desire in her eyes, her tone, and in her body whenever she was with me intimately.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned quietly as my mouth was busy at work. I groaned more than once, savouring her taste a final time. “Oh fuck, Ragnar,” she cried out, laughing away as her fingers grabbed my hair, keeping my head in place. “I’m making all the noise I want tonight. Don’t know when you’ll be back again to eat my pussy.”

I murmured something as I didn’t relent, feeling her body shudder and gyrate at what I was doing with my tongue. It amused me I was sat there, still dressed as she was naked. It had happened more than once, as I’d strip her down, throw her on the bed, then go to town on her more often than not.

“Oh god,” she cried out, feeling her push her body down into my mouth, “I’m close. Don’t stop!”

I simply looked up her body, her eyes appearing above her two beautiful breasts, nothing but desire in her eyes returned. She managed to smile before her head rolled back, before she finally lowered her back to the table, watching it arch slightly, my arms now wrapped around her thighs to keep her somewhat safe.

Then she definitely had quite the orgasm, pleading with me during for me to keep going. She would usually ask me to slow down or stop during, but I think she wanted everything that night, so I simply doubled down, entirely focusing on her clit while removing a hand from her thigh and sliding two fingers straight into her. Finding that special spot within a few seconds, she was soon squeezing my fingers tightly as her second one followed her first rather quickly.

“Oh fuck… oh fuck…”

“Keep cumming for me, Tomira,” I managed to say.

She tried to lift herself up, but it wasn’t possible considering what I was doing. She started to shudder yet again, and I couldn’t help smile to myself as she had another one rather quickly. I’d experienced this with one or two lovers before, but never with Tomira. I think it perhaps had something to do with the emotions of the evening as well.

Tomira enjoyed two more before she had to beg me to stop. I did so immediately as she lifted herself up straight away and hugged me tightly. No real surprise that she burst into tears. They’d been coming for a few days now. Managing to move from the bench, I picked her up and carried her to the bed, lying down as she cuddled into me, gently caressing her back. She didn’t lie there and sob, it was a quick cry before she calmed down. “Sorry,” she murmured, before looking up and smiling, “Guess there were a few emotions floating around just then. I was feeling really fucking good… then it hit me for another reason.”

We lay together for a little while before she helped me undress… then, for the first time, she returned the favour. And within a couple of minutes, I did kind of wish she’d done it earlier, as she was rather talented, making me stand up as she sat on her knees. Eye contact was perfect, and the fact she just seemed to enjoy it made it all the better. Made me cum within five minutes. She was iffy about swallowing, and I didn’t want to leave it all over her face, so we agreed on her breasts, both of us chuckling away as… I left a lot on them.

Then we spent the rest of the night making love. On her back. On my back. On her knees from behind. Bent over the same table I’d eaten her out on. We even headed outside and fucked her against the fence around her garden. Fucking by moonlight was quite the experience, to be honest. It was rather late by the time we were satisfied, lying back on her bed after cleaning up and washing down.

“I adore you, Ragnar,” she whispered, spooned back against me.

I knew the use of that word. It was safer than saying she was in love. I gave her a gentle squeeze. “I adore you too, Tomira. I’m glad those peasants dragged me to our house.”

“Me too. I’ll have to go thank them after you’re gone.”

Sleep came easy that night, simply because we’d worn each other out completely. Waking in the morning, she’d rolled over so her head was resting under my chin, our legs criss-crossed, her body as close to mine as possible. She always joked about how warm I was. When she woke up, the smile was instantaneous, we shared quite the kiss, before she got up and wandered through to the kitchen naked. I followed her as she immediately started breakfast, standing behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and nuzzling into her neck, making her giggle.

“I’ll cook breakfast before you need to go,” she whispered, “No funny business. Though I’d love to, last night was perfect, Ragnar.”

“I’ll get dressed and try to control myself.”

“Can you grab my gown?”

“Of course.”

I didn’t like her body disappearing behind the gown, but considering she was cooking ham and eggs over the fire, it would stop any possible burns. We ate in contented silence, with a mug of apple juice to go with it, before I needed to pack my few belongings. The last thing I put on was my armour, leather boots last of all, before grabbing my sword and shield. Tomira had watched in silence, before she stood up and walked me to the door.

That last kiss… I think we left each other rather breathless. Hugging her tight to my body, I simply enjoyed the feeling of her body against me one last time. “Goodbye is so final, Tomira. I always say farewell, as it is possible we may see each other again one day.”

“Bloody hope so, even if you just pop by for a drink and a chat.”

She lifted her head and smiled, leaning down for one last soft kiss. “Farewell, Tomira.”

“Farewell, Ragnar. I wish you all the best.”

Heading towards the tavern, Vesemir was waiting inside alone, stating that Geralt had risen early to go speak to the captain at the garrison. Taking a seat with him, we chatted about nothing of importance, neither of us ordering anything alcoholic as it was still rather early, and I had hope that Geralt would return with some good news. I admitted to Vesemir that there was only one reason why I’d want to stay in White Orchard, but I was a warrior, an adventurer, and I needed to be on the open road once again.

Geralt walked in around an hour later with news that Yennefer was south in Vizima. I didn’t particularly want to head further south, definitely not back into the conquered capital, but if that’s where she was, it was better than any alternative I could think of. I had no idea where any other friends were currently located, Geralt as clueless as I was, having spent a good six or so months on the Path.

We were getting ready to leave when things took a turn. My presence had never caused a problem in the tavern. In fact, many locals had been acquaintances as I’d helped out around at farms and houses, helping the peasants get their village back in working order.

The dozen or so twats in front of us were not the local peasantry. Vesemir had already muttered his concerns but I didn’t think they’d be so stupid to actually try it on with us. They obviously didn’t like the presence of the two witchers, but none of them recognised me, so I knew they were strangers to this tavern as well.

Holding up a hand to my colleagues, I took one step forward. “Is there a problem here?” I asked.

“Yeah,” the one standing in front of his friend stated, spitting at the floor by my feet, “Those two there. You like having freaks for friends?”

I glanced back one way, then the other, before returning my glance forward. “I don’t see any freaks here. What I do see are a dozen drunk idiots ready to get involved in something they won’t be walking away from.”

“That some sort of threat?” another one asked.

“I don’t make threats,” I retorted, “So I will say this only once, and I’m not going to say it politely. Fuck. Off. Now.”

I heard Geralt sigh as weapons were taken out in front of me. “Looks like we will have to teach you some manners first.”

“One question before we begin. Ever heard of the Dragonborn?”

There were a few shared glances. I knew I’d made a name for myself since arriving. Nothing like the White Wolf and Yennefer. Dandelion had made sure everyone knew about them. But I’d had one or two ballads or poems sung in my name. “You’re not him,” one of them asserted.

“Want to take a chance on that?” I asked, slowly withdrawing my weapon. “I’ve told you once. And I really don’t like repeating myself.”

“And you’ve obviously seen our medallions so you know who and what we are,” Vesemir added. I knew they would already have swords in hand, ready to make short work of these idiots.

We only defended ourselves as they immediately attacked. Did I fight with heavy heart? No, I did not. They were not local peasants. Most of them were either bandits or possibly ex-soldiers. I’d heard enough to suggest they were drunk and unhappy. But it was easy work. I could have used my Thu’um to really strike fear into them, but it simply wasn’t necessary. Three trained swordsmen against a dozen drunk idiots. We could have just disarmed them, possibly taken a hand here or there, but once the bloodlust took control, it was hard to reign it in until the fight was over.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered as we surveyed the carnage.

“Aye, I think it’s best we leave now,” I muttered, “What a fucking waste.”

Walking out as we heard the rising sobs from inside, when the three of us noticed the line of Nilfgaardian soldiers in front of us, each of them wearing heavy black armour, I’ll admit that my heart did sink a bit. I didn’t particularly want to fight a bunch of heavily armed and armoured soldiers.

Geralt thumbed behind him. “We didn’t start that.”

“Excuses, excuses,” a feminine voice stated, the three of us recognised immediately. Geralt didn’t smile all that often. He was trying very hard not to smile as Yennefer appeared through the line of soldiers.

“How?” he asked quietly. It was a good question. Seemed all the hard work we’d put in had been rather pointless.

She walked towards us, or walked towards him, until they were barely a couple of paces apart. I liked to think I could read body language. He probably wanted to kiss her. He definitely wanted to hug her. And despite what she was like, I could see the delight in her eyes. She couldn’t hide that, even with all the magical talent she had in her possession.

“If you must know, I received a report about a witcher who’d appeared in White Orchard, and I just knew it would be you.” She looked across myself then Vesemir. “Nice to see you, Vesemir.”

She didn’t mean that at all. “You too, Yen,” he replied.

He didn’t mean that either. Then she looked at me. “Ragnar? Would have thought you’d be shacked up with… well, whoever it is you’re currently enamoured with.”

“I was shacked up here with someone but I was getting ready to leave with him,” I replied, thumbing towards Geralt.

She shrugged, looking back towards Geralt. “It’s good to see you,” she said softly, “I’d even embrace you but… you know, the blood.”

“They started it, we finished it. And I wasn’t expecting to see you just yet. I only got the news you were in Vizima. But showing up here with this escort, Yen. That’s going to need an explanation.”

“And you shall have one, Geralt. In Vizima.”

“What’s the rush?” he asked, “It’s been a while, Yen. This place has a certain charm.”

“There is someone who wants to meet you that won’t put up with being made to wait. Emperor Emhyr var Emreis. Or, to those on more intimate terms with him, the White Flame Dancing on the Graves of His Foes. He wishes to make you an offer.” I probably wasn’t the only one to raise their eyebrows at that. Then she looked at me. “He wants to see you too, Dragonborn.”

“Why the fuck does he want to see me?”

“He knows exactly who you are, to start with. And he knows you two can be thick as thieves at times. So, the offer for Geralt includes one for you too.”

I glanced at Geralt. It sounded like the sort of offer we couldn’t really refuse. I was just stunned the emperor even knew who I was. I knew Geralt had… history with the man, for want of a better explanation. “Fine. If you’re here on his behalf, I guess I can be willing to hear him out,” Geralt stated.

“I need a horse if I’m going along.”

“Spare horses were brought along in the event you lacked transport. Ready yourselves as I’d like to be behind some thick city walls sooner rather than later.”

Geralt snorted as we both turned to Vesemir. We didn’t even need to ask him. “Well, I don’t particularly feel like an audience with the emperor, plus winter is approaching, and I should return to Kaer Morhen and start preparing.”

“Sounds better than going to Vizima,” I muttered, before offering my hand, “It’s been a long time, Vesemir.”

Grasping the offered hand, he nodded. “That it has, Dragonborn. If you find yourself with the opportunity to return… Kaer Morhen will always be a home if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

Geralt and Vesermir shared a warm handshake, words of affection shared. As I’ve said before, people think Witchers are lacking in emotion, but the friendship and respect shared between the two men was open and obvious to anyone present. To call Vesemir a father figure would be an understatement. Hell, even I’d learned plenty from the man. But I didn’t blame him for heading back to the fortress. He hated politics and knew we would soon find ourselves neck deep in it.

Once I was given my own horse, we mounted up and eventually found the main road south. We passed by the battlefields still littered with bodies, now being picked apart by the vultures and other creatures that prowled the fields long after the men that survived had departed. More than one village had been left a smoking ruin, finding evidence that some civilians had found themselves caught up in the fighting. Plenty of bodies hanging from trees and gallows. War was an ugly business.

Yennefer and Geralt rode side by side ahead of me. I followed a few metres behind, away with my thoughts, mostly still wondering how the fuck the emperor knew who I was and why he wanted to talk to me. Sure, I’d dealt with kings and rulers before, both on Skyrim and during my life here, but I’d never met the Emperor of Nilfgaard before. I had been content in the idea that he didn’t know me at all.

So riding along, it did give me plenty of time to think why he wanted to talk to me. If he knew who I was, perhaps the offer was in regards to fighting for him. Well, that would make me a turncoat, or a traitor, so I would politely decline that offer. I may not have been from this world, but I had fought for what I considered a good reason. There was just something about the way Nilfgaard was spreading its power and influence that concerned me. I could have it all wrong, and they’d turn out to be good, fair rulers, bringing peace and prosperity to the land. But I just couldn’t believe it.

The only thing I could think is that he did have some sort of job for me, but what sort of job, I simply couldn’t think of one. And as I wouldn’t work for him in any sort of official capacity that might give him some sort of advantage, I could only scratch my beard and get a little frustrated about it all, before I internally shrugged, thought fuck it, I’ll just find out when we get there, and thought about something else. Or someone else, at least.

Then I closed my eyes and remembered even more…

* * *

_Approximately ten years earlier…_

“Who is he?” a voice asked.

“No idea,” another replied.

“Well, where did you find him?” another asked.

“Face down in the snow up in the hills. Fucker isn’t light either. Dragging him back here wasn’t a lot of fun. Couldn’t just leave him there though.”

I made a sound as pain wracked my body. “Shit, he’s waking up!” a voice hissed. All of them had been male so far.

Someone gave me a gentle shake. “Hey, you awake?”

Well, at least I could understand them, so that was a positive. “Where am I?” I managed to groan.

“You’re at Kaer Morhen.”

“Kaer where?”

“Don’t worry, we’re wondering how you got anywhere near here as well. Ever heard of Kaer Morhen?”

“No.” I managed to roll onto my side, feeling more pain shoot up my body, glancing down to see I was still dressed in my armour. “Who are you?” I asked, looking at the faces looking down at me.

“I’m Vesermir. This is Eskel and Lambert. They’re the two that found you. Over there is Geralt, the young girl is Ciri. Who are you?”

“Ragnar. Ragnar Dragonborn.”

“Dragonborn?” Vesemir asked, a surprise in his tone, “Interesting surname.”

“Aye, I hear that a lot.” I struggled until I was sitting up, all of them looking at me rather curiously. Guess I didn’t blame them if they found me face down in the snow. “Where in Tamriel am I?”

That made them all share glances. “Tamriel? Where is that?” Vesemir asked.

I ran a hand down my face. “Ah shit…” I said with a sigh. “Okay, ever heard of Skyrim?”

“No. I mean, are you from the western continent, perhaps?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. At least you speak the Common Tongue.” Sighing again, I added, “Well, thanks for the rescue. I thought I would have landed on High Hrothgar, at the very least. Guess Tsun screwed up returning me a little bit.”

“Where and who?”

“Never mind. I have a feeling I’ll be explaining a lot. Look, as I said, thanks for the rescue. All I really need to do is… shit, I guess I can call in a dragon and they can at least fly me home.”

“Okay, he’s obviously taken a whack to the head,” Lambert exclaimed, “Call in a dragon to fly you home?”

“What do you know about dragons?” Vesemir asked, and there was no doubt the interest he had in my answer.

“I’m the Dragonborn. In the dragon tongue, otherwise known as Dovahkiin. Bestowed by Akatosh with the blood and soul of a dragon, I am to be the last of my kind, the prophecy being I would return to stop Alduin, the World-Eater, from consuming the world. And it was in Sovngarde that I travelled, and it was there that we did battle, and it was there that he was vanquished.”

I noticed the glances they all shared. “Okay, it’s not a whack to the head. He’s fuckin’ insane,” Lambert stated, laughing away as he stood up and walked to the other end of the room.

Vesemir leaned in closer, eventually grabbing the amulet at my neck. “What’s this?”

“Amulet of Talos. One of the Nine Divines. Revered by all mankind.”

“I’ve never heard of any of this,” Eskel stated, “But he seems to believe it.”

“Of course I do. I’ve got the scars to prove who I am. Scars only a dragon could leave. I could recite the dragon language, but you wouldn’t understand it anyway, so probably just think I’m making it up.” I gave it some thought. “If you need proof, I could always show you my Thu’um.”

Vesemir offered me his hand, and I was pleased that, despite the pain, nothing appeared to be broken, and he led me towards the open doors that led out onto a balcony. Gesturing for them to remain behind, I gazed out over the surrounding area. It was utterly, breath-takingly beautiful. I couldn’t think of many places I’d been that came close. I knew I wasn’t in Skyrim, nor was I in Cyrodiil. I’d spent plenty of time travelling both provinces and never heard of where I was.

Glancing back, I nodded at Vesemir. “Okay, I’ll do it in a few seconds. Watch yourself as… it’s loud.”

I gave it five seconds before I took a deep breath. Not that I needed to, I did it simply for theatrics.

FUS… RO… DAH!

I turned around to see some rather stunned faces. “You are definitely not of this world,” Vesemir muttered, “You’d best come with me, Ragnar. I think we need to have a very long discussion about your arrival here. Good thing you landed near us. If you’d landed a village of scared peasants, well, I don’t think you need too much of an imagination to realise what they’d do with you…”

I couldn’t help sigh as I’d already figured out where I was. Or, at least, where I wasn’t.

* * *

_Present day…_

“Still with us, Ragnar?” Geralt asked.

“Huh?”

“Thinking of Tomira?”

Yen scoffed at the mention of another female. She knew my reputation. Hell, my reputation would probably be even worse in her eyes if she knew what I’d been up to since I last saw her. “No, thinking of the day I crash landed here.”

“That was quite the day. I still think Lambert is convinced it’s all an elaborate ruse you’re playing. Or you’re just completely insane and we’ve just gone along with it because, well, you have talent with a sword and generally good natured.”

“And my Thu’um?”

“I haven’t met anyone who could possibly explain that. Call it a birth defect and go along with that.”

We’d been riding a few hours by now. We wouldn’t make Vizima until after nightfall, Yennefer insisting we don’t stop until we were safe behind the city walls. I didn’t particularly blame her. Even the roads around White Orchard hadn’t been particularly safe outside of where the Nilfgaardians had been patrolling.

I was still barely concentrating on anything when I wasn’t the only one to feel the sudden drop in temperature. I might have been a Nord, and capable of withstanding even the bitterest of cold, but I could still tell when the temperature immediately dropped twenty degrees Celsius in five seconds. Geralt glanced back at me and I watched as his eyes widened. Yennefer then did the same thing, her eyes narrowing.

“Ride! Now!” she cried.

I didn’t need telling twice as I chanced a glance and muttered a hearty “Fuck!” to myself. How the fuck had these fuckwits managed to find us? In fact, why the fuck had they found us? Already I had far more questions in mind about everything going on and I knew I was going to get next to no answers.

I remained just behind the other two, hearing the heavy hooves of those behind us in their heavy armour, though also heard the cries as the White Hunt seemed to be making short work of some of the soldiers. None of us looked behind, simply kicking our horses to run as fast as possible. Without looking back, I could sense we were slowly but surely getting away from them, but Yen made sure of our escape when we crossed a bridge, and she used a little magic to ensure no-one could follow us. Felt sorry for the few Nilfgaardians who were caught on the other side, but they were a worthy sacrifice to ensure the three of us at least made it to Vizima safely.

As we slowly approached one of the main gates, and the imposing city walls, I was surprised that most of them looked as sturdy as ever. In fact, it appeared like they were untouched. As we rode through the gates, while there was damage, much of it was superficial. Sharing a glance with Geralt, he shrugged his shoulders, perhaps with questions of his own but he’d raise them later.

Nilfgaard was certainly in control though, wasting no time hanging their flags and banners everywhere, soldiers in black patrolling the streets, sentries on the walls, and while one could feel the tension from those being occupied, it didn’t feel as if insurrection was about to happen at any moment. Most seemed to be just getting on with their lives as best they can.

Meeting the emperor as we were, Yen led us towards the royal palace. A high fence surrounded it, and there were guards posted every five metres, the gates closed, though opened upon our arrival. I guess they recognised Yen, though I noticed the looks towards Geralt and I as we rode through. Dismounting near the main entrance, more than one steward appeared ready to greet us. Introductions were barely made before we were led inside.

The Royal Palace of Vizima was an impressive building. Any Temerian nobility had long since escaped… except those who thought they could deal with Nilfgaard. I was fairly sure there was more than a few who were willing to do business with the enemy.

Anything regarding the royal house of Vizima had already been removed, and workers were busy tearing up the floor in the main hall. Eventually led to one of the personal chambers, Yen kept walked as the head steward stopped and turned towards Geralt and I. “Before you are presented to the emperor, you will be washed, shaved and dressed. Geralt, you will accompany the young lady to my right. Ragnar, you will accompany the young lady to my left. Your… clothes will be returned once your meetings are concluded.”

After another glance and shrug of the shoulders, I followed the rather young, attractive maid towards the room where another three maids were already waiting.

“Cor, haven’t seen someone like him around in a while,” one of them exclaimed. A long time ago, I’d have blushed at such a comment. Now I just returned a grin as I started to undress, and I didn’t miss the fact all four of them quite happily watched me do it. Once I was naked, I watched their eyes drink me in. I figured they would have been used to at least some nudity, but I’d been blessed in a few ways.

Stepping into the hot water, I sat back against the side and felt some of the aches and pains slowly disappear. I was given five or so minutes to relax before I found myself being scrubbed, and they were not shy in making sure I was washed all over my body. I would have had a little fun by dragging one of them into the water with me, but I figured that might get them in trouble.

“Where have you come from?” the head maid did ask.

“Last place I was in was White Orchard.”

“To the north? What’s it like around there now?”

“Peaceful enough.”

“Did you fight? For Temeria?”

“Aye.” I turned slightly and showed the scar on my chest, pointing at it. “Took an arrow there. The woman that healed me suggested another couple of millimetres to the left and I’d have been dead instantly. But I know I’m still one of the lucky ones. Lot of good men died fighting for the Three Lilies.”

“They’ll fly again one day,” she whispered.

Another shushed her. “Spies everywhere,” she hissed.

“What’s the situation like here?” I wondered.

“The commander defending the city negotiated with the Black Ones. Not wanting to see the city destroyed, he negotiated that he would declare it an open city, long as there were no reprisals against the citizens, and that those armed, ready to fight, could at least march out with honour. Thankfully, it was agreed. The Black Ones have been swinging their weight around but, to be honest, it could have been a hell of a lot worse. The emperor himself kept us employed. We’ve just swapped a king for an emperor.”

Satisfied I was clean enough, I stood up and offered a towel to dry off, and the four of them continued to watch me. I certainly returned a grin before the head steward walked in, pleased to see I was at least already out of the bath. “Thank you, ladies. You’re dismissed.”

“If I’m in need of another bath while I’m here, I’ll certainly ask for your services again.” There was plenty of giggling, and a couple of rather suggestive comments, as the steward approached me, pleased he did have to crane his neck slightly. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“You may call me Mererid. Now, as you are washed and,” he leaned forward and sniffed, “Certainly smell better than arriving, you will now be shaved and your hair trimmed.”

“I prefer my beard.”

“In Nilfgaard, we consider beards hard on the eyes. The emperor does not like them. You will be shaved and made presentable for your meeting.”

I sighed as Mererid gestured to the chair. Not wanting to cause an argument, I took a seat as another man prepared to shave my beard. I gave him a glance as he held the cutthroat razor close. “I hope you don’t have shaking hands while shaving me,” I only half-joked.

Mererid was watching as another man entered. Not wanting to move my head, I at least moved my eyes as he walked in, and I clocked him as a soldier straight away. “Well, has our other guest proven more cooperative than our other one?”

“I don’t like being shaved,” I muttered before I met his eyes, “Who are you?”

“Morvran Voorhis. Commander of the Alba Division.”

“Don’t know if I fought any of your men. Were they further to the north?”

He smirked. “No, they had the honour of conquering the capital of our enemy. Many were disappointed when they were allowed to simply march through the gates as victors without needing to bloody their swords.”

“Should have sent them north. Plenty of blood was spilled there.”

“In time, Dragonborn, in time. The war is paused for the moment.” He positioned himself in front of me. “So you were involved in the fighting?”

“Aye.”

“Still owe your allegiance to Temeria?”

“If you think I did, I don’t think I’d be about to be presented to the emperor. You know as well as I do that I will usually only fight for coin, but… well, I’ll keep any personal opinions to myself for now.”

“Many would rather see someone like yourself at the end of a rope.”

“Would you?”

“To be honest, no. Soldiers, and even mercenaries like yourself, fight and die for their country, an ideal, or simply for those that they love. As long as the enemy lays down their weapons and goes home when the battle is finished, I am prepared to live and let live. Of course, there are others who don’t see it that way. Be thankful those with that opinion are not in Temeria.”

The man shaving me finished, raising a hand to my cheek to feel smooth skin for the first time in a long time. I immediately hated it, but I could grow a good beard again within a couple of weeks, so it was short term pain at most. As Morvran disappeared out the door, left thinking he just wanted to get a good look at me, I was presented with clothing to wear, surprised at how well it fit. I glanced at Mererid more than once, and I noticed the smirk that appeared.

After dressing was being shown how to bow. Utter nonsense, but in the short time I’d been with him, Mererid had raised a couple of grins. I liked someone with a sharp sense of wit. He knew it too. Far too sharp for me to try and keep up, so I just went along with whatever he wanted. I knew if I didn’t, he’d probably get in trouble, and I don’t like being responsible for servants and maids getting into trouble.

Once as satisfied as he could be, I was led down a series of halls towards the emperor’s study. Black Ones guarded each hall, standing at attention, armour almost sparking in the rather bright light. I thought they were coiled springs, ready to attack in an instant should someone be stupid enough to try and attack.

Walking into the study, there were the obvious lackeys hanging around, and they were definitely all from Nilfgaard. Not a chance any Temerians would have an audience with the man. They split apart as Mererid stepped forward to announce me. Or the emperor.

If you’re wondering, I did bow. If I didn’t, I had no doubt Mererid would have been punished for my disrespect. Plus, I had no real reason not to otherwise. He was the victor and the ruler of what was now an enormous, ever expanding empire. That alone deserved at least some sort of respect. The surprise was when he dismissed everyone except myself. I mean, I didn’t have a weapon, but I could still throttle the man with my bare hands if I really wanted to.

“You are to assist the vatt’ghern,” he stated with preamble.

“Come again?”

I did enjoy the glare he returned as I hadn’t added ‘Your Majesty’ but respect is also a two-way street. He stood up and walked around the table so he could stand in front of me. As always, I enjoyed the fact that even an emperor had to look up into my eyes. “You are not of this world, Dragonborn. I know that much. I have no doubt many fear you.” I shrugged. “I’m not ordering or even asking for your allegiance. I know you fought for Temeria. But that does not interest me. I am aware of your relationship with… the witcher. I’ve been told many stories by the sorceress.”

“Yennefer?”

“And others.” That was cryptic. I wondered who else he’d spoken to… “I know you have spent time travelling with the vatt’ghern, that is why I summoned both of you here.” He walked around his desk, resuming his seat. “My daughter has returned. Do not ask stupid questions. The information is solid. You are to assist the vatt’ghern in finding my daughter and returning her to me. I don’t care where you must go to find her, but find her you will.” He looked up and met my eyes. “There will be coin in it. I know that is what you want.”

I had another million and one questions about the fact she was back, when I didn’t even know she was gone. I couldn’t remember when I’d last seen her. My path rarely crossed with Ciri, and if it did, the reunion was always rather brief. “What did Geralt say?”

“He agreed as I expected. He won’t like the fact I’ve ordered him to do it, but I also know of his relationship with Ciri.” He met my eyes again. “You, I’m not so sure. Part of me would rather keep you close, watch you, as I’m aware of your power. But the vatt’ghern cannot do this alone, therefore I have decided you will help him.” He waved a dismissive hand. “You are dismissed. Mererid!” The man appeared immediately. I wouldn’t have been surprised if was listening through the door. “Take him to the others.”

I followed Mererid out of the study, hoping some of the gaps in what I’d just been told would eventually be filled.


	4. Witch in the Wild

I walked in on Yennefer and Geralt enjoying a private moment. Considering it had been quite some time since they’d last seen each other, I turned and walked out, but heard Yennefer laugh lightly as she called me back into the room. Geralt had that look of smug satisfaction a man generally has when back with the woman he loves.

She added further detail to what the emperor had told Geralt and I. The Wild Hunt was searching for Ciri, Yennefer holding her hands up immediately, admitting her own search for Ciri had attracted attention. She added that, for now, she would no longer use magic, but rely on Geralt’s skill, and my own brute force if required, to help find her.

“Start in Velen,” she suggested, “You know the Inn of the Crossroads?”

Geralt nodded. “Smack bang in the middle of Velen.”

“No man’s land,” I muttered, “Nilfgaard to the south, Novigrad and Redania over the river. It’s not going to be pretty. Obviously I’ve spent a little time around there. Absolutely no law and order. Bandits running amok. Local peasantry barely scraping by.”

“Speaking of Novigrad, there’s a good excuse for you to head there, Ragnar.” I met her eyes as she smirked. “Rumour has it that Triss Merigold has made her home there.”

Geralt groaned. “Great, he’s going to piss off and leave me to deal with Velen while he tries to get laid.”

I patted him on the back. “Don’t fret, Geralt. I’m sure there are plenty of women around Velen…”

Yennefer scoffed. “Gods, I’m amazed it hasn’t fallen off yet. Anyway, rumours of Ciri in Novigrad are, at best, rumours. But if Ciri would attempt to make contact with anyone in Novigrad, it would be Triss. But make contact at the Inn with my agent, fellow by the name of Hendrik. He should provide you with more information.”

“Why are they after her? The Wild Hunt?” I asked.

Yennefer shrugged. “I don’t know, Ragnar.” Well, at least she was honest. “I can make some guesses, but until we find her, and perhaps gather more information, we’ll simply have to do what we can to avoid their detection.”

“Where are you going while we’re doing this?” Geralt wondered.

“I’m heading to Skellige. One or two things have happened that gained my attention.” She smirked, looking my way. “I’m sure Cerys will be asking after you as soon as I arrive, Ragnar. I understand you’ve made quite the impression on the young lass.”

“Another redhead. See a theme, Yen?”

She laughed and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to travel there by portal. If you want, I…”

“No. Horseback it is. You can send Ragnar if…”

“Fuck that,” I muttered, “I’ll give you two a moment. Good luck, Yen.”

“You too, Ragnar. Try not to sleep with every woman in Velen while you’re working.”

“If I say ‘I’ll behave’, we’ll both know I’m lying. So I’ll try not to lead Geralt astray.”

Walking out of the room to give them either a couple of minutes, or even a couple of hours alone time, I ended up having a conversation with Ambassador var Attre, who proved to be a real source of information, filling in plenty of gaps in regards to what was happening on the continent. Being in only one place in the field, and then spending a few weeks around White Orchard, I had no real idea what was happening elsewhere. It was an interesting and rather thought provoking conversation, left with the feeling that the war, which was currently paused, would end with one climactic battle between the remaining Northern Kingdoms, led by Redania, and Nilfgaard, with Novigrad as one of the crown jewels for the taking.

Still waiting for Geralt, I grabbed a drink and took a seat by the fireplace, my thoughts immediately turning towards Tomira. She’d definitely remain in my thoughts for a few days, even weeks. The idea of seeing Triss again was appealing, though it had been quite some time since we’d last seen each other. I could name other lovers but… I figured I might see them in due course. Life usually found a way.

“Ready to go?”

“Aye. We are getting changed, right?” I asked.

“Yennefer might like the look of me in these clothes. But she’s gone so…”

Retrieving our clothes, we immediately changed back into our armour, leaving what we had to wear behind, grabbing the rest of our belongings and made our way out of the palace. Before we mounted our horses, I noticed Geralt take a last look around. “Wonder what will happen to this place,” he muttered.

“Depends on who ends up winning the war. I think the days of independence are over, though. Temeria will become a vassal of one empire or another.”

“It died with Foltest,” Geralt stated, as we mounted our horses, “Nilfgaard inherited a corpse. Temeria is the same as any other nation to the south. Consigned to the history books.” He sighed before stating, “Come on, Ragnar. Let’s get out of here. With any luck, we won’t have to return too often. Too many bad memories otherwise.”

It took a couple of days to make it to the Inn of the Crossroads, which was in the heart of Velen. Having been on the Path further south for months, he hadn’t seen the devastation the war had brought this far north, on the banks of the Pontar. The only positive was that, although it was cold, the sun was shining and the mud was hardened. The roads were in generally good condition, considering armies had spent weeks marching up and down them.

Passing by the enormous Nilfgaardian Army camp, bunkering down for the winter, we followed the main road, eventually passing by villages we’d quickly forget. Benek. Toderas. Lindenvale. We did pass by somewhere called Crow’s Perch, which had once been the seat of the local lord of the area, no doubt now abandoned due to the war. As for the lord, he was either fled or dead.

The inn we were looking for was located on its own little isle named Mudplough. Not the greatest of names for an isle, to be honest, though perhaps rather honest of the area. I hadn’t seen a single sign of any wealth through any village we had passed through or skirted. Everyone was doing their best to scratch a living and just survive another day, hoping that one army or another didn’t come marching through again to ‘requisition’ anything worth taking.

I hadn’t spent much time in the saddle lately, so my crotch was feeling rather tender by the time we made it to the inn. As it was growing dark, we agreed to sleep the night under a roof before moving on the next morning. Hobbling slightly as we walked into the tavern, it was deserted, no real surprise considering it was me distance from the nearest villages, and I assumed not many would risk walking home after dark.

The innkeeper was immediately suspicious. Luckily, Geralt was used to it so simply ignored the attitude as he ordered us a bottle of something strong for us to share, making sure we received two cups. Before he could ask the innkeeper about our contact, all of us heard hooves approaching. Geralt had an ear for these things, glancing back at me. “Six horses, all of them armed and armoured.”

We positioned ourselves where we could unsheathe and attack if necessary, while also keeping an eye on wherever the six would eventually stand or sit. If they were locals, they would know we were not, and in areas like this, any stranger would arouse suspicion. I knew Geralt wouldn’t want a fight. Nor did I, to be honest. But six men arriving on horseback suggested they were likely mercenaries, henchmen, or some other load of undesirables.

The first one slammed the door open and walked in as if he owned the place, his five colleagues following in his footsteps. I kept watch as Geralt stayed relax, listening to them step inside, no doubt able to ascertain each weapon being carried, able to sniff if they had already consumed booze, and hear in their tone how eager they were to start trouble. All of them looked in my direction at the same time, their eyes taking in my size, before three of them took a seat at a table nearby, the other three looking back at Geralt and the bar.

“Innkeep! Vodka!” the first man demanded.

“Who's this?” the second man asked, his interest in Geralt enough to be an immediate concern.

“Brave warrior, looks like. Got two swords, see?” his friend joked.

“Oi, grey boy! What's the point of havin' two swords?” the first man asked to the laughter of the others. Geralt glanced my way. Didn’t have to do anything else. The look was ‘Don’t get involved’ but with an added word of ‘Yet.’

“Wonder if he keeps an extra prick in his trousers, too.”

“You fuckin' deaf?” the first man asked, his tone increasingly and quickly irritable, “Gonna say who you are, or do I need to loosen your tongue with me knife?” I sighed, as I had a feeling these dickheads were just looking for a fight. Then he looked at me. “And who the fuck are you, just standing there watching?”

“Just call me an interested bystander, wondering how the man with two swords is going to react. Wonder if he’ll wield them together, one in each hand?”

Geralt almost glared at me before he grabbed the bottle he’d bought for us. Turning around, he could do one of two things. Either slam it into the side of the head of the nearest man, and then we’d just slice and dice. Or he’d take the peaceful route. And considering his reputation, Geralt did take the peaceful route at times.

“Why don’t we share a drink?” he asked.

It wasn’t the answer they were expecting. I had a feeling they were disappointed not to get the reaction they desired. I knew they had wandered in, itching for a fight with someone. Usually thugs like these would pick on peasants and people who can’t defend themselves. The only reason they chose Geralt is that there was only me, and they had six to his one. Little did they know…

“I don’t drink with strangers,” the man replied.

“We share a round, won't be strangers anymore. Then we go our separate ways.”

“And where are you going?”

“Nowhere tonight. Tomorrow, we head over the Pontar. Maybe Novigrad.”

“City of whores and whoremongers.”

But the six men were pleased to be getting a drink, Geralt pouring each of them a cup, before pouring one for himself and me. We toasted each other silently, threw back the alcohol, exchanged a nod of the head, and with their own bottle of vodka, they headed off to a far table to drink in peace. I stood next to Geralt at the bar. “Well, I was ready to throw down if you gave the signal,” I murmured.

“Definitely henchmen for some local lord.”

“Baron,” the innkeeper muttered, “They’re his man. Often come around here, throwing their weight around. Thanks for not rising to the provocation.”

“We’re not here to fight. We’re here for information,” Geralt said, “We’re looking for someone. Name of Hendrick.”

“I know of him. He lives in Heatherton. Village to the west of here. You could head there now, though light is fading fast.”

“No rush, and we need the rest.”

“There are no rooms, but if a bench is okay?”

“That’s fine. Slept on worse. Ragnar?”

“If I’m drunk, I won’t care where we sleep.”

“We’ll grab a table. Is there a chance of any food?”

“Sure, sure. I have some meat already prepared. Can bring that over with some trimmings.”

We took a seat, the food arriving a few minutes later. Having barely eaten all day, we polished it off in a couple of minutes. Geralt wasn’t usually the chattiest of companions, and he proved it again that evening, though I figured hearing that Ciri was returned, and possibly in danger, meant he had a lot on his mind, so didn’t blame him for being away with his thoughts most of the time. He did ask the occasional question of what I’d been up to, and to be honest, apart from fighting in the army for a while, I’d been adventuring around like he was doing.

“Think she’s in danger?” he asked once we were well into a second bottle.

“Ciri is capable. She can look after herself.”

“The Wild Hunt though, Ragnar. I keep having these thoughts…”

“Such as?”

“Nothing that I can put my finger on. Just a general sense that something is wrong. And why is Ciri back? Wherever she went, I thought she was safe. That was the whole point.”

“Maybe the Wild Hunt found her there? She might have had no choice but to return.”

“Maybe she’s looking for me in return?”

“It’s possible.”

“Hmmm…” He knocked back his cup. “Fuck it. I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Good idea.”

I woke with a slightly pounding head the next morning. Geralt was fine, as always. Bastard. I knew he could get drunk, but he would have to drink the amount of alcohol that would put me in a coma. We broke our fast before heading outside, a grey, miserable day, but at least it wasn’t raining. Mounting our horses, we headed west towards Heatherton. “I have to ask, Geralt. Have you really not been with anyone since you last saw Yen?” He gave me a look that made me laugh. “I’m assuming…”

“I keep it simple, Ragnar. Whores.”

“Does she know?”

“Of course she does. Witchers do have a reputation, of course, because there is always an element of truth. If we didn’t spend so much time apart, my eye wouldn’t wander. You know I love her.”

“Geralt of Rivia admitting love. Still find it amazing whenever I hear it.”

“I do love her, and she knows that, whenever I make the choice, it’s purely a physical need, a release I need which she isn’t around to satisfy.” He glanced my way. “You’re one to talk, Mister ‘I’m going to stick my cock into any woman who is willing and able.’ You put most witchers to shame.” Chuckling, with a shrug, I admitted he was probably right. “Didn’t do all that much whoring while with Vesemir, of course. He’s too old to be worried about such things nowadays. If I did head off for a night, he’d make a joke or two then just ask I returned without having caused any trouble.”

The village of Heatherton was only a couple of hours ride away and, approaching its outskirts, our conversation ceased as we both definitely got the feeling something was wrong. Even the smallest of villages felt alive. There was always plenty of noise as men and women were hard at work, and children were always noisy. But there was next to no movement from what we could see.

We both unsheathed a weapon as we moved our horses along the road to the path that led into the centre of the village. It was deserted. Most of the buildings had sustained damaged, one or two destroyed completely. “Fuck,” Geralt muttered.

Dismounting near the well that was generally the centre of such a village, we heard shouting from a house nearby. A man was being bothered by a few wild dogs, managing to attract their attention, following us outside where we could take care of them. I headed off to look around as Geralt talked to the only survivor. The concern I had was the fact there was no sign of any other villager. If the army had passed through, they would have just left the bodies wherever they had fallen. They would have likely burned the houses as well.

Geralt walked over a few minutes later. I could have gone searching through houses for supplies, but I guess I had hope that they were alive. “Wild Hunt was here,” he muttered. I sighed. No chance any of them surviving contact with those bastards. Still didn’t explain the lack of bodies though.

“Hendrick?”

Geralt gestured to a nearby dwelling. “We’ll likely find his body inside. I’ll head in and see what I can find. Want to join me?”

“Not particularly but four eyes are better than two.”

The Wild Hunt had made mincemeat of Hendrick. There was little remaining that I would consider human. The blood had long since soaked into the floorboards, the rest of his body butchered and bloody. Surprisingly, his face was just about recognisable, but it was obvious he’d been tortured. “By Talos,” I muttered.

Aware the man would have had information, Geralt eventually found a key that opened a trap door. Heading downstairs, it was obvious that Hendrick had been rather well supplied, and before his run in with the Wild Hunt. But, more importantly, he had information. Shame he was dead, as we could have really probed him for anything he knew, but what we did find was enough to give us options. Heading back outside, we stood together in silence for a couple of minutes.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Well, we can do this one of two ways. We can investigate the witch and the baron separately, or we can do it together. It just depends on who they are and what they’re going to want in return. We both know they won’t help out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“If you go see the witch, you’ll end up trying to fuck or will end up fucking her. I know what you’re like.”

“Are you saying I should go see the baron?”

“No. We’ll go see the witch first. We’ve been tasked to do this together. You don’t have all my senses, but then I don’t have your gifts for… fucking people up when it gets nasty. Always appreciated you at my back, at least.”

“Think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Geralt.”

“Fuck off.”

“Where are we headed?”

“Midcopse.”

I knew the name, like I’d heard the name of many of the villages around Velen, but I’d rarely visited any of them. I stuck to the larger settlements and cities. More chance of a bed in a tavern, of better food and beer, and also more women about who would interest me. Following the road south, we passed through a forested area, keeping our wits about us, the perfect place for bandits to ambush us, before we rode through the village of Blackbough. I did wonder how the peasants managed to scratch a living in villages such as the one we were riding through. I remembered what life was back on Skyrim, and I’ve got to be honest, life in Velen was almost horrific in comparison.

It was early afternoon by the time we rode into Midcopse. Like Blackbough, it appeared to have been untouched by the fighting. I liked to think Geralt was as relieved as I was that the peasantry was left to just get on with their lives. Dismounting our horses in the middle of the village, our arrival certainly attracted attention, and some of that attention was fear. Two armed and armoured men would cause many to worry about our intentions.

The village lacked any sort of tavern. “So…”

“We’ll just ask around about a witch in the area,” Geralt suggested, “Though we’ll have to assure them we’re not hunting her for being said witch.”

The first couple of people he asked proved to be rather uncooperative, with other negative remarks about helping a witcher. As always, Geralt took that in stride. Even I was aware that he was generally distrusted and ostracised, except when they needed a monster needing to be killed. Tapping his shoulder, I gestured towards the old man and that I would go talk to him. He’d been watching us ever since we had ridden into town. After offering him a cheerful greeting, he quickly gave us the answer, admitting that he was giving us the information we wanted so we would leave.

“Your arrival here does not bode well for this village, at least under normal circumstances,” he muttered, “I have heard of and recognise the White Wolf. I’m an old man and know enough. But you, stranger, have the stench of death on you as well. We owe the witch our thanks for helping us. I only hope your reason for finding her bodes well for us all.”

“Thank you, old man,” I said, tossing him a couple of coins. He quickly pocketed those and returned a grateful nod. “Regarding the witch, we only want her help.”

Walking back towards Geralt, I couldn’t help return a sarcastic grin as he grumbled to himself, walking back to and mounting our horses. You could almost sense the relief from the villagers that we were leaving as quickly as we arrived. Having to backtrack wasn’t a problem, eventually turning onto a narrow path leading deeper into the forest, needing to dismount as the path narrowed and staying in the saddle was just too awkward.

A house soon came into view, tying our horses to the fence and approaching the rear of the small crowd gathered near the door. I recognised the witch immediately, and I assumed Geralt would have done so too.

“Geralt,” I murmured, “What’s a member of the Lodge doing in the heart of fucking Velen?”

“No idea, but I think you might need to ask,” he muttered back.

“Why me?” I asked, keeping my voice to a whisper.

“Because I don’t trust a blonde hair on that head of hers. When did you last see her?”

“It’s been a while. Would have been in Loc Muinne, I think, though some memories are a little hazy. Maybe she went back to Vizima? Obviously before it fell, of course.”

“When did you last see Triss?”

“Too long ago,” I muttered.

“Why don’t you head to Novigrad now?”

“Because I have no doubt the emperor has eyes watching our every move. If I just piss off to get my end away, he’ll have me dragged back and told in no uncertain terms to stop thinking with my cock.”

“Could just kill him. You’re the Dragonborn, remember.”

“Power corrupts. I use my Thu’um for that, what else would people ask me to do? What would I be capable of doing? Done a lot of bad shit in my life, Geralt. Arriving here and living the life I have has helped restore at least some sort of honour.” I looked up to see the witch had disappeared and the crowd was slowly dispersing. “Shit.”

“Hope you’re not here to see the witch,” one of the women stated, “She’s in a foul mood.”

“We’re old friends,” I only half-joked, “Sure you won’t come in?” I asked Geralt.

“No. I know what she’s like. There’s a good reason why Yennefer never trusted the Lodge of Sorceresses. The only reason you liked the idea was because you tried to fuck them all.” I definitely returned a grin at that. “How many did you?”

I tapped the side of my nose. “A gentleman never tells.”

“You’re no fucking gentleman.”

“Could say I don’t want to make you jealous.”

“I keep my life simple, Ragnar. I have Yennefer, and when I don’t have her, I have my whores. You make your life complicated by getting involved with women who would quite happily take your balls and put them in their purse.” Clearing my throat, I concluded, “I’ll head inside, see what she has to say. In and out real quick.”

Geralt stifled a chuckle, groaning myself as I knew it was simply due to the innuendo. Walking inside, I searched the house to find no sign of her. That meant calling Geralt, as he could definitely sniff her out fear easier than I could. He walked around himself, checking a few things, recognising a pentagram on the ground. Magic was… a little different compared to Tamriel.

He quickly figured it out as a portal opened, standing to the side and gesturing for me to walk through. “You know I hate portals, Ragnar.”

“Well, considering she’s likely gone through herself, I guess I don’t need to have sword in hand on the other side.”

Stepping through a portal was a strange experience, but it was almost instantaneous at the same time. I entered a glade of peace and tranquillity, the polar opposite to the region I’d just departed. I could inhale the scent of flowers, animals frolicked around me, and while it wasn’t bright, it wasn’t gloomy like Velen was during nearly every morning, when one dreaded leaving the house or tavern.

“What happened to the beard, Ragnar? Think there are going to be a lot of disappointed women, seeing you so fresh faced.”

“I had a meeting with a certain person who didn’t appreciate facial hair. It was a matter of health and safety.”

“Well, come on up. I won’t bite… unless you want me to.”

Climbing the stairs, she’d definitely organised this as soon as she saw Geralt and I. And knowing Geralt wouldn’t be interested in her, it was definitely for my entertainment. At the top of the stairs, Keira Metz was reclining in a large bath. Steam rose from the water, so I figured the water was hot. It looked incredibly tempting. I could only see her top half, but what I could see was appealing. I’d seen it before, obviously. Geralt hadn’t been telling tall tales when suggesting I had tried to fuck every member of the Lodge. Thankfully, they’d liked me just as much as I liked them. Amazed none of them got jealous. Well, not too jealous anyway…

“Want to join me?” she asked, lifting a leg up, definitely in a way to tempt me to join her, running her hands up and down as she soaped herself up.

“I really want to say yes.”

She met my eyes and grinned. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.” Sighing, I nodded. “Sure I can’t tempt you? I haven’t had a man in far too long. I’m sure Geralt won’t mind waiting.”

“We’re here about Ciri, Keira.”

That changed her mood completely. I’d only mention her if it was serious. She stood up immediately, stepping out of the bath, using magic to dry herself before her clothing slowly appeared, covering all the fun parts of her body. Still, she stepped up and kiss my cheek before walking past me, I followed her back to the portal, ending up back in her house, where we found Geralt at the table, nursing a drink. He glanced back at me. “Well, you work quick.”

“I didn’t fuck him, Geralt. I was ready to until he mentioned Ciri.”

“Wasn’t sure if I should mention her, but considering what we’ve found so far,” I added.

Keira took a seat across from Geralt as I stood against the counter, letting Geralt tell the story. We learned within ten seconds that Keira wasn’t the witch mentioned in the notes we’d found, and that she was surprised Ciri had even returned. Keira wasn’t a natural liar, and Geralt would have known if she was or not. It was obvious she didn’t have a clue in regards to the whereabouts of Ciri after a couple of minutes’ conversation. Geralt leaned back, obviously frustrated.

“The hell are you doing in this hellhole anyway?” I wondered.

She turned towards me. “Where was I to go, Ragnar? I’m a former member of the Lodge of Sorceresses. The man you’re currently working for, and the man on the other side of the Pontar, both want me and my companion’s dead, those that still live anyway. And you can forget about living anywhere to the north considering my kind are being hunted down and exterminated.”

“Things are that bad?”

“Ragnar, they’re even going after people like herbalists.” I immediately thought of Tomira, glad she was safe and sound in White Orchard, then I thought of Triss and knew I couldn’t waste too much time. “There was no chance of remaining in the north. But heading south would be putting my head between the jaws of a lion. If I was caught, I have no doubt Emhyr would take the same pleasure in putting me on a stake like Radovid is doing to anyone he can find to the north.”

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, Geralt echoing my sentiments in choice words of his own. “Heard from anyone else from the Lodge?” I wondered.

“No, and it’s much safer that way. I know most of them are still alive, at least.”

Geralt looked at me. “Can always see what this baron…”

“One second, Geralt. I might not know much about Ciri, but there is someone who might have the information you want.”

“Who?” he asked.

She looked at me first. I just smiled, my eyes suggesting she didn’t play games right now. It was obvious his only thought was finding Ciri, and damn anyone who stood in his way. What he’d do once he’d found her, whether he’d take her back to Emhyr or not, was the next question. I had a feeling he wouldn’t, and I knew Emhyr would have offered him coin. I did think Geralt would take pleasure in actually throwing it back in his face.

Keira looked back at Geralt. “He was an elf. An elven mage, to be precise. Never saw his face as he wore a mask, so rather secretive, but he was definitely intelligent.”

“Did he say anything? Such as why he was looking for Ciri?” Geralt asked.

“He didn’t explain much, only that he was to meet her here, in Velen. He asked that, if I were to meet her, that I was to escort her to his hideout. Apparently he made a home for himself in some elven ruins near the village you just came from.”

I walked to the door and looked outside. “Well, any idea of heading there should probably be put off. It’s getting dark so…”

“Where’s the nearest tavern?” Geralt asked.

“Tavern? Well, you could try your luck at Crow’s Perch, but being a stranger, they won’t look kindly. So your best bet is Inn of the Crossroads. But you can just stay here, Geralt.”

He made an obvious glance in my direction. “Thanks, but I might just camp nearby. Enjoy a night under the stars.”

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” I added.

Geralt finished his drink, stood up and patted my shoulder. “I’ll knock on the door not long after sunrise. Quicker we head off and find this elf, the quicker we get more information in regards to Ciri.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Following him outside, he took the reins of his horse and turned back to me. “Careful, Ragnar. She’s playing the damsel out of her depth, and while she might be on the run, Keira Metz hasn’t changed. She still covets power like the rest of them. Try not to become her pawn just because she fluttered her eyelashes and gave you a look at her tits.”

“I think she’s genuine in her attempt to help us.” He grunted but didn’t say anything. “We’ll just play it carefully.”

“Trust me, I won’t be turning my back too often. I’ll see you in the morning, Ragnar.”

Once he was out of sight, I turned back towards and entered the house, no sign of Keira again, though this time I walked to see the portal had remained open. She probably assumed I wouldn’t know what to do. Walking back up the same set of stairs, she was laying back in the tub of hot water, arms spread along the edge, and I could get a good look at her body underneath the water. “Care to join me this time, Ragnar?”

I replied by undressing, and I enjoyed the look in her eyes as my upper part was exposed first before I stood before her in just my underwear. “You seem bigger… broader,” she said, “But a few more scars.”

“Lot of fighting before I was injured.” Pointing at the scar on my chest, I added, “And this one nearly killed me.”

Removing my underwear, the slight smile that appeared on her face nearly made me laugh. Lowering myself down into the water, I sat opposite Keira, stretching my arms out along the edge, and simply looked at her. I think it was ten seconds before she made her move, darting across and sitting on my lap, our mouths crashing together, arms immediately moving to her back. It was one hell of a first kiss. “When was our last time together?” she murmured.

“Far too long,” I whispered back, “Surprised you haven’t tried to seduce me with red hair.”

“That was my next trick if the nudity didn’t work.” Then she smiled as her body moved. “Haven’ felt that in a long time either.”

There were a couple of more movements before she gasped as I slid inside her. “No foreplay?” I asked with a smug grin.

“Less talking, more fucking,” she whispered back.

So I shut up and concentrated on the feeling of being inside her. She was eager to ride me nice and fast at the same time, barely able to string a few words together after a few minutes. Running my hands up and down her back, I eventually just rested them on her arse to keep her balanced as her only thought was making sure she enjoyed an orgasm. Her kissing grew more desperate, always enjoying it when a woman moaned into my mouth while kissing, before she leaned back slightly, allowing me to lean forward to give those magnificent breasts of her some attention. Feeling her fingers run though my hair, she cried out quietly.

“Oh yes, fuck,” she cried.

I was barely moving, letting her do all the work, but she was ever so eager. Always loved it when a woman showed such enthusiasm when fucking. If they didn’t, if they were just going through the motions, it was nowhere near as fun, didn’t mean anything. Generally, I was left thinking I was doing something wrong to not have her in the right side of mood. Thankfully, those times were few and far between, but they still happened.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned quietly, feeling her start to squeeze my cock. When she started to shudder, she kissed me hard as she enjoyed what felt like quite the orgasm. It turned out to be so good, she had to stop moving for a few minutes, relaxing against my chest as I just ran my fingers up and down her back. “You haven’t cum yet,” she whispered.

“Far too focused on making you cum,” I joked.

“We’ll get out of the water. There’s a place downstairs we can continue.”

Lifting herself off my lap, she kissed me again before stepping up and out of the tub. I followed her, taking in the view of her tight little butt, walking downstairs towards an area where I could see some candles already lit, a bottle of wine and glasses, and a blanket on the ground. “Would you like a drink?” she asked.

“Not right now,” I said, “I’ll need one afterwards though.”

That made her smile as she walked towards me, leaning down to kiss her again, making her almost giggle when my cock poked into her. “Can always do foreplay now?”

“Oh no, I believe you did ask if I’d cum or not.”

Keira ended up on her back rather quickly, both of us grinning as my cock was quickly buried inside her again. Fingers digging into my back rather quickly, I think the easiest way to express what happened next is to say that Keira Metz was fucked by the Dragonborn. Gods, it was good. Really good. Helped that she was just as keen as I was too. I didn’t last too long that first time, but after I’d climaxed, her legs wrapped around me, holding me in place. I needed a couple of minutes to get my mind back in working order.

“By the time we’re done, we’ll need another wash,” she stated with a chuckle, “Going to be covered in sweat and probably some of your cum by the end.”

“And how would the second thing happen?”

“Ragnar, if you think this is going to happen without me sucking your cock at some stage…”

“I do remember you were rather good at it. And you liked to swallow.”

“Well, once you pulled your cock out that first time, my mind was made up.”

She kept her words, as I found myself on my back a little later, her head slowly bobbing up and down to begin with, keeping her hair out of the way so she could look up and meet my eyes. She was as good as I remembered, really drawing it out, making those tingles I felt start to spread across my body. I wasn’t a quiet lover either, groaning when it felt really good, and I loved talking dirty to a partner, or partners if I was lucky.

And when I did cum, she made sure she swallowed most of it, though a little bit did end up dribbling down her chin. Sitting back on her knees, she looked rather pleased with herself. So I sat up, gently grabbed her wrist, making her squeal and giggle as I pulled her forward to kiss her, before she relaxed on my chest. “Want to sleep here?” she asked softly.

“Long as you’re naked, I don’t mind where we sleep.”

We sat back and enjoyed a glass of wine before heading back up to the tub, taking the bottle and glasses with us, where I sat down with Keira leaning back against me, choosing to finish off the bottle. It was rather relaxing. The few times Keira and I had been together previously; it had been a quick liaison before moving on. First time we’d spent an entire evening, just the two of us.

Once we were both starting to drift off, we headed back down to the blanket, Keira using a little magic so we found ourselves covered in more furs to keep us warm as she cuddled into my side. “Maybe we’ll get the chance to do this a few more times before you disappear,” she murmured.

“I won’t say no to that opportunity.”

“Going to be a few jealous sorceresses once they hear.” I chuckled to myself. “I’ll definitely tell them.”

“Well, I have a reputation already. Why not just enhance it further?”

“I’ll make sure we wake up in time to meet Geralt.”

“Can’t be late, otherwise he’ll just moan at me all day.”

She drifted off first, feeling her cuddle into me a little more. I lay awake a little longer, thinking as always. Most people assumed I was just a dumb brute, but I had my moments of thought, trying to piece together ideas. I knew we were not going to find Ciri anytime soon, but I could only hope that we’d track her down sooner rather than later.


	5. Phantom Riders

“No portals,” Geralt stated.

“But…”

“I am inclined to agree with my friend here,” I added, “You can just join me on my horse and we can ride there together.”

“Horseback? Ugh!” she groaned. Then she looked between the both of us and sighed. “Fine. At least I can provide directions, otherwise you’ll end up wandering around lost for hours.”

We walked our horses back to the main path before mounting, helping Keira up onto mine. I think she was a little disappointed to sit behind rather than in front of me, whispering within a couple of minutes that I could have felt her up while riding along. So I just mentioned that it was something I could do next time, which was the right answer.

The ride took a couple of hours, heading south, passing through Midcopse, eventually turning off the road itself as the entrance was a cave hidden away from even the most suspicious of eyes. Dismounting, we headed towards the entrance, Keira admitting she only knew its location as she had followed the elf to ensure it wasn’t some sort of trap, but she’d never been inside.

“Good thing I’m used to adventuring through caves and ruins,” I muttered, as none of us carried any sort of torch.

“ _Gvella, glan_!” Keira exclaimed, and things turned a little brighter. Well, around us, at least. Better than fumbling around in near darkness.

If Geralt or Keira recognised anything, they didn’t say as we headed down a flight of stairs. We ended up in a large cavern, with ruins ahead and to either side of us, when Geralt held up a hand to stop us. His eyesight was far superior to mine or Keira, but I could just about make out the figures at the far end. “The Wild Hunt,” he grunted.

“What?! Phantom riders?” Keira asked, “That means... I thought they didn't exist!”

“The fuck they doing here?” I asked instead.

“We need a portal to get to the other side, Keira.”

I could see she had a retort about the fact he hated portals, but could obviously sense how important this was, so she formed one without question. “I don’t like this, Geralt,” she muttered as we followed him through.

Of course, it went wrong. No idea where I ended up to begin with, but it was dark and there was no sign of my two companions. “Geralt!” I called, “Keira!”

When they were no response, I unsheathed my sword and blindly moved forward. I knew Geralt could see in the dark, but I had a trick or two of my own, summoning a small light that would hover just above me. I’d always been an unusual Nord back home as I’d always appreciated the advantages magic had brought me. Rarely used it in battle, but at moments like this, I had no problem using magic.

Running into drowners would have once been a problem, particularly as I didn’t carry silver. I wasn’t a witcher, not at all, but having spent time with them over the past ten and more years, I’d learned more than enough to handle certain monsters. Fire usually worked on most monsters, so I kept a sword in hand to keep them back, using my free hand to cast a fire spell in their direction. Their cooked flesh was soon infiltrating my nostrils, enough to make an ordinary man gag. I’d dealt with enough to be almost used to it.

Dealing with the drowners wasn’t particularly difficult, and searching for where we’d entered the enormous cavern, I probably wasn’t the only one to hear feminine shrieks coming from ahead. I ran into Geralt and we both jogged towards the cries coming from Keira, to find her inside a chamber, standing up on a stone block as tiny rats ran around at her feet. Geralt and I stopped, looked at each other, and almost keeled over from laughter. That just caused her shrieks to increase in volume.

“Kill them! I hate rats!”

He took one mound, I took the other, and we just burned their nests before we burned those running around. I would have just stomped on them but… well, blood and guts sticking to the sole wouldn’t have been particularly pleasant. Once they were all dead, I offered a hand to help her down. She gave me a hug before she shuddered.

“Didn’t think you’d be afraid of rats, Keira?” Geralt joked, dead-pan as always, “Surely you know one measly little spell to kill them.” She definitely gave him the evil eye as he held up both hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, touchy subject. What happened to us anyway?”

“There's something here, something that distorts teleportation,” she explained, “I've no idea how they managed to get to the other side problem free.”

“Wild Hunt's teleportation magic is different,” Geralt replied, “Got specially trained mages for that. Navigators they call them.”

“I guess portals are out then?” I asked. Both looked at me and nodded. At least they didn’t think it was a stupid question. “So I guess we’re just walking, then.”

“I don’t like this,” Keira muttered.

I took her hand, giving it a squeeze, making her look at me. “We’ll be fine. At least there should be no more rats.”

“No, just the Wild Hunt and other bloody monsters,” she muttered.

Geralt gestured with his head. “Come on, they’ve already got a head start on us, and I don’t particularly want to find a dead mage. He’s the only lead we have at the moment.”

Keira was impressed with the little spell I had so we could at least see, and with her own illumination spell, at least we could see where we were going. It didn’t allow us to sneak ahead but that wasn’t the purpose. Geralt mentioned we were definitely on the trail of the Wild Hunt. No sign of them just yet, it was pure instinct. He knew the signs to look for.

We did eventually enter a chamber where there was some sort of projection of the elven mage. I had learned since arriving that the elven language was the same on Tamriel as it was on the Continent. I wondered, if there were any other worlds out there, if the elven language was the same there too. I’d learned a little elven but Geralt and Keira were both fluent in the language, so understood what the mage was saying.

“I could ask what that was but I don’t think I’d understand,” I said.

“A morphotic projection,” Keira stated.

“I said I wouldn’t understand, Keira.”

“It’s just something we mages use occasionally. Safer than putting our thoughts and ideas to pen and paper.”

“Nothing wrong with writing things down sometimes. At least I can write!”

That made her chuckle as Geralt added, “The message was definitely for Ciri. ‘Daughter of the Gull’ is in reference to the fact she is Lara Dorren’s heir. Then there’s the added mention of Zireael, which she named her sword. The elven word for swallow.”

It was a case of exploring the caves we passed through, dealing with the occasional monsters. Things like drowners I knew how to handle. I knew about wraiths but they were the sort of monsters I generally left to Geralt whenever I was travelling with him. As always, Geralt muttered about me finally getting a ‘fucking silver sword’ while he dealt with them, Keira helping where she could. I attempted to use a little magic of my own, but they were immune to fire, and using any sort of frost spell didn’t really seem to work either. So I just shrugged helplessly as Geralt swore continuously, though he wasn’t actually in any sort of life threatening position.

Following signs as we made our way through the ruins, most of the time following a symbol of a swallow, but the mage was smart, using other symbols that Ciri, or those that cared about her, would recognise. At once stage, we had to find a symbol of a horse, Geralt and I sharing a glance and a grin, “Kelpie,” we exclaimed.

“How well do you know her?” Keira asked me.

“Obviously not as well as our friend here, but she was at Kaer Morhen the day I arrived. Precocious little thing.”

“She had you wrapped around her finger within days, Ragnar,” Geralt stated, as he started to remove his shirt. “I think our way is down there. I’m going to jump down and see if I can find the exit. Just don’t do anything to provoke a trap or something.”

“We’ll stand right where we are, Geralt,” Keira stated, a little sarcasm in her tone.

As he disappeared, she turned towards me. “So, you’ve obviously told me a little about your history. I do wonder though… when did you meet Triss Merigold?”

* * *

_Approximately six months after arriving…_

I’ve never been one to believe in love at first sight. Oh sure, I’d been infatuated from the moment I’d laid eyes on someone. Back on Skyrim, the day I’d met Aela, I knew we’d end up together. I was proven right rather quickly in that regard, ending up in bed together within a few days of meeting the first time. I was smitten the day I released Serana from her tomb. The day she admitted to returning that affection was one of the best days of my life.

Did I fall in love within five minutes of meeting Triss Merigold? Maybe. Maybe not. What I knew straight away is that I wanted to be with her, and not just intimately. I wanted to know her in more ways than just what she looked like naked. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted that too, but when our eyes met the first time as we were introduced, I had that dry mouth thing you get when… you just know.

“This is Ragnar, Triss. He’s a stranger to our lands.”

She offered her hand and I did the gentlemanly thing of brushing my lips against the back of it, which made her chuckle. “Charmed,” I stated softly.

“How are you a stranger to these lands?” she wondered.

“It’s a long story.”

I met her eyes and made sure I had a slight smirk on my face. “I might like to hear that story one day.”

Geralt looked at me. “Triss is here primarily to assist with Ciri. She’s becoming a young woman. Obviously there are no women here so… you know…” He looked at Triss. “If there’s anything you need to make your stay more comfortable, you need only ask.”

“I can rough it with the best of them, Geralt. What matters most is that Ciri had someone here she can rely on as she… blossoms.”

“Is that what they call puberty here?” I asked with a chuckle.

“I am merely being polite, Ragnar,” Triss stated sweetly, “Do I have my own room, Geralt?”

“Of course. It’s rather basic but…”

“I have things with me to add a little life and colour, but I knew what I was walking into coming here. It’s fine.”

Triss settled in with us quickly, and Ciri took to her immediately. Though the young girl… woman… enjoyed the idea of being a witcher, and certainly enjoyed the physical aspects of her training, at heart she was also a young woman going through changes inside and out. I certainly would have been out of my depth giving any advice, and the idea of the likes of Vesemir giving any to a young girl would have made most laugh.

She quickly joined in with us at meal-times, and whenever Ciri was put through her training, she would happily take a seat and watch her, or would get on with her own work. I took part in training, but as I wasn’t exactly a witcher, I found myself helping Vesemir with a lot of the maintenance around Kaer Morhen. Even Vesemir wasn’t sure how old the fortress was, but it was clearly ancient.

I would chat to Triss nearly every day. I may have attempted what I considered a subtle flirt nearly every time, mostly just to see if I raised a smile. The other witchers could see what I was trying to do, and I was certainly on the receiving end of some gentle ribbing and jokes, but even a blind man could see how attractive she was. Plus, she was a redhead. They were my weakness.

“Ragnar, we need more firewood,” Geralt stated one afternoon, approaching me with an axe.

“Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

I looked around, wondering if he was pulling my leg, but we were alone in the main hall. “Surely we have…”

“Winter is fast approaching and we can never have too much firewood once snow started to fall.”

I sighed and took the axe from him. “Fine.”

“Good man.”

The pile of logs would have been intimidating even to someone who chopped all day, every day. Sighing to myself yet again, I shook off my shirt and dragged a log closer, getting to word cutting it into manageable pieces before cutting it into even smaller sections so it could be placed in the assorted fireplaces around the fort.

I’d been chopping for half an hour or so when I felt a presence nearby, glancing to see Triss sitting herself down on a chair, crossing her legs with a book on her lap, and it appeared she had a jug of something next to her as well. “You get a drink once I’m satisfied you’ve done the job you’ve been tasked,” she stated.

I couldn’t help chuckle. “Are you here to monitor my progress?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

I could have suggested she was just there to ogle, but I wasn’t going to complain, simply getting on with the task at hand. It was all about rhythm, and I certainly had a good pile of logs after a couple of hours of work. It must have satisfied my supervisor, and she wandered over with the jug, offering it to me. It was only cold water but what I needed after the exertion.

Having not seen me without a shirt, she was definitely looking me up and down. “You have a few scars, Ragnar.”

“Aye. Been a few fights over the years.”

“But you’re not a witcher?”

“No. I’m the Dragonborn.”

She didn’t know that about me, but I figured I might as well just tell her now. “What’s the Dragonborn?”

“It’s a long story, Triss. Longer than I can just tell you just standing here.” I paused and gave it a thought. “Why don’t we go for a walk tomorrow?”

The grin was immediate. “A walk?”

“Sure. There’s a river nearby and a path follows it for quite a while. Meant to be quite pretty.”

The grin turned into a broad smile. I’m fairly sure a little colour appeared on her cheeks as well. She had to look up at me considering she was a good four or five inches shorter. “And what would your intentions be regarding this walk, Ragnar?”

“Well, I have a vague feeling you wouldn’t mind hearing my story. We’ve talked from time to time since you arrived, but I guess we haven’t really had what either of us would call a heart to heart. Guess I don’t know all that much about you in return.”

When she rested a hand on my chest, that caused me to almost choke on the mouthful I’d water I’d just swallowed. Looking down to meet her eyes, she was giving me another once over. “Tomorrow then, Ragnar,” she whispered, before she turned to pick up her book and started to walk back to the fort. If I didn’t know her any better, she definitely put a sway into her hips.

That night, I was enjoying a drink with Geralt on the balcony overlooking the fort and nearby valley. We were sitting in silence, like we usually did, before I had to ask, “How well do you know Triss?”

“I know her very well. She’s good friends with Yennefer and she’s a good friend of mine.”

“She’s single?”

He returned a sideways glance. “Why do you think I had you chopping wood earlier?” I chuckled before taking a sip of my tankard. I should have realised. “Your interest in her is obvious to everyone here, Ragnar. Even Ciri can see it, though she’s not stupid in ways to the heart herself. Think she nurses a little girlish crush on you herself. Triss, well, she is at least a little subtler in return in regards to you. But there’s no missing the longing glances she sends your way.”

“We’re going for a walk tomorrow.”

“Head north. There’s a gorgeous little glade a couple of kilometres away. Kaleidoscope of colours. Babbling brooks. Animals frolicking. She’ll love it… then she’ll probably take her clothes off for you.”

“Hmmm. Haven’t been with a woman since I arrived here.”

“Well, not like you’ve left here yet. But we’ll leave eventually.”

The next morning, after breakfast, I found Triss waiting by the main door of the fort, already with a basket in hand. I couldn’t help grin as I walked towards her. Noticing where I was looking, she stated there was good in the basket, so that we could perhaps have a picnic, and that she might pick flowers on the way back, so she could add a little more colour to her room, and maybe even the fort.

Heading out together, we walked to the river before finding the path I knew, and we following the bank as we talked about life in general before I started to explain my life. I still think to this day that Triss believed me from the moment I told her. The fact I was from a place called Skyrim. That was I was the Dragonborn, though she’d heard of my gift from the others. I left nothing out. The fact I’d been a thief, even an assassin for a time. But also the fact I’d helped end the civil war and my last act had been a journey to Sovngarde, and killing the dragon that threatened to end existence.

“And you ended up here?”

“That I just can’t explain. Last thing I know is that Tsun said he would be returning me home. Next thing, I’m waking up in Kaer Morhen, surrounded by strangers that I could thankfully understand. I can’t figure out if Tamriel is part of the same world or not.”

“We do know of a continent to the west, but anything else, we simply have no idea. Does that explain some of your scars?”

“Aye. I’ve spent a lot of my life fighting, one way or another. Got a few good scars front and back from a dragon or two. I’ve never been one to wear thick armour, so although I like to think I have talent, those of equal talent have certainly drawn blood over the years.”

We eventually arrived at the glade, and it was as beautiful as Geralt had suggested it would be. Triss certainly liked it, leaning into my side as we stood by the side of the water, just listening to the water trickling, the rustling wind, and we could hear the sounds of the nearby forest. It was incredibly peaceful. Taking a chance, I wrapped an arm around her waist as she lowered the basket to the ground. “Well, this is a treat,” she whispered.

“I’ll thank Geralt later.”

That made her giggle. “Not sure if he would have ever brought Yennefer here. Don’t think he’s brought her to Kaer Morhen before.”

“It’s not really a place for women. I’m sure you can agree?”

“Oh, there are one or two reasons why it’s not so bad.”

I glanced down at her as she smiled, walking around the glade until we found a flat bit of ground where we could sit down, Triss having packed a small fur blanket in addition to food and wine. Taking a seat to relax, we nibbled at a little food, drank a little wine, and continued to talk, really getting to know each other. The attraction was obvious between us, but I generally liked to get to know the women I felt an attraction to before we decided to take the next step.

“I do have something to tell you, Ragnar. A secret of my own, I guess.” I heard the tone. This wasn’t an easy secret to share. The look in her eyes suggested it was upsetting, so I grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze, as she took a deep breath. “They called me ‘Fourteenth of the Hill’. According to a stone memorial on Sodden Hill, I’m a dead woman. It was during the first war with Nilfgaard a few years ago now. Thirteen of my fellow mages were killed. I should have been the fourteenth, but I somehow managed to survive the carnage and chaos.”

“Hard to believe someone as sweet as you involved in such matters.”

That made her giggle. “Sweet talker,” she whispered, before clearing her throat, and there was another sigh before she moved around to sit in front of me. “I was left… scarred, Ragnar. No-one knows. I’ve not shown a soul but… before this goes any further, I need to show you as a sign of the trust I already feel I have in you.” She undid a couple of buttons on her dress, though she already wore the sort of dresses that showed off at least a little cleave. Lowering it down off her shoulders, she held it with one hand as she then used a little magic to reveal her own scars.

They were not significant but I could understand immediately why she used magic to hide them. If she wore the same sort of dresses normally, her scars would have stood out. She met my eyes and I simply met hers and grinned, gently pulling her forward as I ran my fingertips across her skin. “We all have scars, Triss,” I said quietly, “You’ve already seen plenty of mine.”

“Some scars appear only skin deep,” she whispered.

“I know what you mean. I’ve stared death in the face more times than I wish to count.”

“What I saw that day, Ragnar… I still have nightmares sometimes.”

I pulled her onto my lap and hugged her, feeling her arms wrap around me in return. “Does being here help?” I wondered, “Far away from civilisation. It’s peaceful here, at least. I find it easy to just forget about everything beyond the fort.”

“Ciri is a great distraction. And I’m finding someone else a rather pleasant distraction too.” I couldn’t help chuckle, which made her giggle again. “Am I being forward?”

“Nope. I have no problem with a woman letting me know what she is thinking or feeling. Takes some pressure off myself, to be honest.”

“I’m guessing you had lovers back on Tamriel?”

“Aye. I remember them, of course, but I’ve been here for a while now.”

She leaned back and met my eyes again before she used magic to cover the scars once again. “I do it for myself, Ragnar. I can’t handle seeing it in the mirror. The doctors said I was hit right here,” she gestured with her finger, “And that I was lucky to not be completely engulfed in flames. They managed to prevent more of my body being burned, and they did everything they could regarding this, but it takes magic to look in a mirror and see the woman from before Sodden Hill.”

“I think she’s beautiful either way.”

Exactly the right thing to say as she leaned forward to kiss me. It didn’t last too long, as we were both grinning while we kissed, before she eventually leaned back. “Well, about time that happened, right?” she asked.

“Aye, about time,” I replied softly, caressing her cheek. She had very soft skin compared to the rough skin of my hand. She leaned forward, resting her head against my chest again, feeling her get comfortable as I just hugged her. It immediately felt right. I’d had that feeling before, back on Tamriel, but obviously the first time I’d felt that since arriving.

“Can I be honest about something?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“I did have a little crush on Geralt for a while. I know he’s been with Yennefer for a long time now, but… well, you obviously know him well enough now.”

“He’s a good man.”

“He is. But things changed the day you were introduced to me. Does that happen often?”

I couldn’t help laugh. “Aye, more times than I’d care to admit. I’ve been told more than once that I just have a presence and a certain charm. Doesn’t make me irresistible or anything, but I did have a good track record on Tamriel.”

“Ah, a line of lovers and broken hearts?”

“Not too many broken hearts, I like to believe. I lived a full life is how I would put it.”

She eventually moved off my lap as we laid back and cuddled into my side, arm wrapped around her in return. Her hand eventually undid the buttons my shirt and she was soon tracing scars of my own with her fingers, asking if I remembered what happened regarding certain ones. I couldn’t remember them all, but certainly remembered the larger scars, as those usually came with a lot of blood and pain. We eventually fell into contented silence, and I think drifted off to sleep, as we woke up a little later as the temperature was starting to drop. Packing up quickly, I took her by the hand as we headed quickly back to the fort before night fell.

Arriving back just as the sun was setting over the nearby mountain range, there was barely a mention of the fact we’d been gone all day. After dinner, we gathered as a group as always to enjoy a drink. Ciri would stay up though would be stuck to drinking juice. She’d tasted ale once, spat it out, and claimed to never want a drink again. That suited the adults just fine.

Heading to bed that evening, I was in the middle of undressing when there was a knock at the door. To find Triss on the other side wasn’t a surprise, and she took a moment to look me up and down again, considering I stood there in just my trousers. Gently pushing me backwards, she kicked the door shut before stating, “I don’t want to have sex tonight, Ragnar,” she said rather bluntly. I couldn’t help grin as she quickly added, “I don’t want it to happen that quickly between us, but I wanted company. I’ve slept alone every night since I arrived. Would you like my company tonight?”

“I’ll keep my trousers on.”

It was the best night’s sleep I’d had since I landed face down in the snow.

* * *

We’d killed quite a few monsters. Golems. Drowners. Wraiths. Gargoyles. The only things I’d ever fought before had been gargoyles, when I’d been alongside Serana as we explored her family castle. Everything else was still relatively new. But nothing compared to the apparently power of the Wild Hunt. And when the mage summoned something Geralt called the ‘White Frost’, he was immediately concerned, while Keira had no idea what to expect.

Feeling the temperature suddenly dip by a number of degrees, Keira summoned a spell to keep them safe. There were three portals that appeared, through which monsters of the Wild Hunt appeared. Being a Nord, I could handle the worst of cold, amazing my companions as I happily approach the first portal, and at times like that, I had no problem using my Thu’um on both the portal and monsters that appeared. To actually close the portal, though, took particular magic from Keira to actually ensure the portal closed.

It was laborious work closing the three of them, and it allowed the rest of the Wild Hunt to get ahead. They tried to cover their tracks but another use or two of my Thu’um cleared the way, but knowing that we would still be pursuing them, they left behind another thing that they hoped would slow our progress.

“Two against one is almost unfair,” I stated, though I could see the enormous weapon the Hunt member wielded that could certainly cut all three of us down with one good swing. Then Keira cleared her throat. “Sorry, three against one.”

“At least steel will kill the bastard, so your sword will come in handy for this,” Geralt muttered, “Keira, help where you can, but stay back. Ragnar and I will get in close, keep him occupied.”

Geralt had told me about the Wild Hunt in stories we’d shared over campfires throughout the years that we’d known one another. They were known as the Aen Elle, elves from another world, and apparently travelled between worlds to capture slaves to serve them.

Whoever this Wild Hunt elf was, he was quick and his skill with his weapon was exemplary. Geralt and I worked in tandem, but it was hard to get in close. I could have just used my Thu’um, but it did feel like cheating at times, confident enough that Geralt and I could handle this member of the Wild Hunt, with assistance from Keira, who was smart enough to keep her distance, the elf almost catching Geralt and I off guard more than once.

Whenever we were gaining the upper hand, the bastard would summon those rifts we’d seen before, through which other Wild Hunt monsters would appeared. Geralt and I would deal with those as I kept my eyes on the elf. He must have summoned three rifts by the time I was just tired of him, so I used my Thu’um.

That definitely grabbed the attention of the elf while I heard Keira mutter one or two comments behind me, as she would not have seen me use my gift before either. The elf seemed to realise he was up against a new enemy, though, and renewed his attacks, swinging with even greater force, but I also sensed with a sense of desperation. That simply made me grin.

When Geralt appeared at my side, stating the last rift was closed, desperation turned to fear, and that ended in the elf making a fatal mistake. Geralt and I struck at the same time, the elf skewered by both our blades. As his body dropped the ground, already dead, I had to lean over and take a good look at him. His armour was completely black, and tapping my knuckles against it, rather thick. I was amazed he could walk around in it as it looked incredibly heavy.

“Our knowledge of them is limited,” Geralt admitted, “It’s what is so concerning regarding their interest in Ciri. But they appeared to be doing anything they can to find her.”

“I would suggest immediately going on the front foot against them in return…”

“But we have no way of finding them, Ragnar, as I’m sure you’ve already figured out. We stay alert but allow them to come to us. We’ll eventually find a way of locating them, and when we do, that’s when we unleash the Dragonborn upon them.” I gave him a glance to see he was deadly serious. “You are clearly not of this world, Ragnar, just like them. So we fight fire with fire.”

I gave it about three seconds thought. “If it protects Ciri…”

“I figured your soft spot for her would help.”

“I saw that portrait, Geralt. She’s all grown up.”

He looked away but nodded. “Yeah…”

I heard the tone and laid a hand on his shoulder, earning another nod of appreciation.

Wandering forward, the Wild Hunt had ransacked what we figured out was the laboratory of the elven mage we had been looking for. There was no sign of the mage himself, but there was another of those projections we’d seen. “Zireael, this place is no longer safe. Do not tarry here long. Trust no one, and above all beware the witches of Crookback Bog. Try to reach the place where last we were together.”

I’d never heard of the witches of Crookback Bog before. They were likely a local legend, though they might actually exist. There was usually an element of fact within the myths that villagers usually held. As for where they were last together, the three of us were left absolutely clueless, considering we had no idea where Ciri was, and were only just figuring out where she might have been.

“Keira, you heard of these witches?”

She looked a little awkward when I asked, and when Geralt turned around, she started to look rather uncomfortable. “What is it, Keira?” he asked, “Do you know about these witches?”

She sighed, taking a seat on a chair as Geralt continued his search. “I've never met them, but I've read of them. In an old manuscript I found in one of the huts in the village. It mentions the village witches venturing into Crookback Bog at times, to liaise between the villagers in the Crones, the Ladies of the Wood. The Crones appear to be intolerant of outsiders, but they help the local folk. Apparently, they stopped the spread of the plague in Velen.”

“So it’s not all superstitious nonsense then?” I asked. I’d heard plenty of legends back on Skyrim. It was amusing how often there was always truth behind them.

“I'd love to shrug it off as the nattering of so many old women, yet... Throughout my first fortnight in Velen, I had horrible nightmares. Something was calling me out into the swamps. One night, I decided to enter the dream consciously, render it lucid. I confronted the... thing directly. It broke contact at once. Peaceful nights ever since.”

“Powerful witches,” Geralt muttered, “How do I find them?”

“The swamps are vast, dangerous, but they say the Crones mark the way for peasants who wish to visit them. The manuscript mentions a chapel in Crookback Bog. And from that chapel one must follow the Trail of Treats.”

We at least had some information in regards to our next avenue of investigation. After finding a hidden exit, an illusion which Geralt had sensed with his medallion, Geralt and I were just about ready to head off when Keira mentioned something about finding a lamp the elf had promised her.

“A lamp?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Not just any lamp, Ragnar. A magic lamp.”

I shared a glance with Geralt. I was willing to help but Geralt sighed. “Fine, I guess we owe you for help us,” he grumbled.

Thankfully we didn’t have to search for long to find the chamber in which the magic lamp was resting. It was hidden behind the usual puzzle room I was used to finding across Skyrim, with subtle difference, but with three minds at work, the puzzle was easy to figure out. The lamp itself looked just like I assumed it would, though Keira assured us it had magical properties. It lay near a sepulchre that Geralt claimed referred to someone known as Lara Dorren, though she wasn’t buried underneath the stone shrine. When I returned a blank look, Geralt had to explain who she was.

“She was an elven sorceress who married a human mage, Cregennan of Lod. It was controversial at the time, and remains so to this day. Much of her life has since passed into legend. There are those who consider her a heroine. Many elves consider her a traitor.”

Finding an exit that finally led us back out into the waning daylight, the three of us gathered, needing to figure out our next step. “What do you plan on now?” she asked.

“Before approaching these witches, I think speaking to this baron might be worthwhile. From what we’ve learned, Ciri was definitely seen in his company, so perhaps he can give us the information we require.”

“Ragnar, perhaps you would like to help me with something? Sounds like Geralt won’t need your help just speaking to a baron.”

I glanced at Geralt before I shrugged. “I mean, sure, but splitting up…”

“Won’t be a problem,” she interrupted, taking a small object from her small bag, handing it to Geralt. “It’s called a xenovox. You can speak into it and we’ll hear you, and vice versa.”

“I assume you have at least one more?”

“I have another two, Geralt, for when Ragnar decides to re-join you. It will allow you two to communicate if you end up doing different things.”

We were far south of where we had entered the cave, necessitating quite the walk back to where we’d left our horses. By the time we’d found them and mounted up, it was already dark. Keira and I headed straight for her house, Geralt choosing to camp just outside Midcopse before heading off to Crow’s Perch the next morning. We shook hands, wishing each other luck, before I rode Keira and I back to hers.

Heading inside, she immediately offered to cook us dinner, which I accepted with hearty thanks. Sitting down to a simple meal a little later, we cracked open a bottle of wine as well, polishing both off before she suggested we head back to the grove where we’d met the first time. Another fine idea, though she asked me to head on through first, and she’d be through in a few minutes.

The fur blanket was still where it was, so I laid back and waited for a few minutes. Appearing through the portal wearing nothing but a smile, I certainly sat up as I took in one of the significant changes she’d made. I certainly looked her up and down more than once as she sat down on her knees in front of me. “Do you approve, Dragonborn?” she asked, oh so sweetly.

“I assume you know of my major weakness, Keira.”

“I would have used this to my advantage to seduce you. But considering, well, we’ve already made love, I thought I’d just do this to gauge your reaction.”

“They say men prefer blondes. This man loves redheads.”

“And how does it look on me?”

I pulled her forward and kissed her before placing my lips near her ear. “May I be vulgar a moment?” It made her giggle at least. “You’re going to wake up sore in the morning.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.”

She was very eager to get me as naked as herself, and then she was even more eager to use her mouth on me. She was rather talented and proved even more open minded later when, telling her I was about to cum, she simply looked up, met my eyes with a smile in them, and happily kept going as I groaned.

I needed to lie back after that, waxing lyrical about her talent as she cuddled up next to me. “Can I be honest a moment, Ragnar?”

“Aye. I’ll probably be rather agreeable after that.”

“I’ve nursed a little crush on you since the first day we met. When Triss brought you before us all, I wasn’t the only one to practically swoon.”

“Keira, it isn’t a surprise.”

“I know, but I thought you might like to know, considering you’ve slept with most of the Lodge anyway. Triss tolerated it?”

“I was a pawn for her at times. I didn’t mind, as I got to satisfy my urges and sleep with some rather attractive women in return. Those I slept with though they could use me in return, but I was always looking after Triss and her interests first.”

“But now?”

“Now, I am my own man for the moment so make the choices I want. Not that I didn’t before, but the only motivation in regards to helping you is that I want to.”

That seemed to get to her, as the next kiss we shared was something else, before she pulled me onto her and I quickly slid my cock inside. The sex we shared was rather tender, at least to start with. I think the crush she’d nursed and any expectations she might have held had been met.

We made love for hours, forging a real connection in the process. She was a lot of fun, incredibly open minded, and the conversation we shared while taking the occasional flowed was easy, with plenty of laughter, and also sharing stories of loss and pain at the same time. I knew she had suffered the loss of lovers and friends, so I willingly lay there and listened before she needed me again. By the time I had to cry enough, she collapsed to the ground, half asleep anyway.

It was a fitful night’s sleep shared, though I did wonder what favour she wanted as I slowly drifted off.


	6. The Power of Love

_Approximately six months after arriving…_

Since that first night, Triss had been staying in my room, but… while there had been a lot of making out each night, we’d barely done anything else. Maybe a little under the dress action regarding feeling up her rather full but still perky breasts, which always made her laugh, and perhaps a little grinding, like we were a pair of frisky teenagers, but we seemed to be taking our time before finally just getting naked and giving into temptation.

Thing is, I didn’t mind a bit. Some women were just worth waiting for. I would have waited for Aela, but she was the first to give in, rather quickly to my amusement. With Serana, it had taken months before we were intimate, but once I had learned the reasons why, I would have waited years. Hell, I would have just not been worried and been her friend regardless. But she eventually wanted to feel real intimacy, simply so she could forget what she’d been put through.

I was in the middle of some repair work one morning, as although I trained with the witchers, I probably spent more time assisting Vesemir keep the old fort habitable, when Triss approached me, wondering if I’d like to go for another walk. I glanced at the old man, who practically told me to go unless I was utterly stupid, so after washing my hands and changing my shirt, I joined her downstairs. I offered to carry the basket, as it seemed heavier than last time, and we walked hand in hand along the same path, only the colours on display slightly different.

Being early afternoon by the time we arrived, Triss suggested a dip in the water before we ate. The fact she suggested it then immediately started to undress was a sign that was exactly the reason we’d walked here. Her dress, shoes and everything else was off before she stood in front of me in just her underwear. Like her hair, it was red and it looked spectacular on her body, particularly in comparison to her rather pale skin.

“Well, I already love that look in your eyes, Ragnar,” she said, bending he arms back to remove her bra.

Absolutely perfect breasts. I’d seen quite a few in my life, not to sound completely arrogant, but there were some that were flawless. Triss was something else entirely. Removing her panties as well, I approved on the small patch of hair above her pussy. Bald was nice but I didn’t mind a little trimmed fur. Turning and giggling, she skipped towards the water, crying out when she dipped a foot in, as I knew it was going to be rather cold, before she slid underneath, disappearing for a few seconds before her head appeared above the surface. “Are you going to join me or not?”

I stripped so fast, I fell over in my haste before I joined her in the water. Being a Nord from Skyrim, I was used to cold weather and colder water, so it made Triss look at me, mouth slightly agape, as I happily swam around as she was quite obviously not as comfortable. So I eventually stood by her, as my feet could touch the bottom, as she hugged me.

“You’re so warm!” she exclaimed, “How is that possible?”

“I’m built for the cold.”

She jumped a little and I felt her legs wrap around me, joining the arms already wrapped around the back of my neck. “I’ll admit it’s a reason I like sleeping with you every night. You’re like a natural source of warmth.”

“There are other ways I could warm you up, Triss.”

She removed one hand from around my neck, resting it on my chest. “I just wanted to wait a little bit. Not because I worried you’d think I was… easy or something…”

“I don’t think that about any woman I’ve been with. If we sleep together the first night, that just means we had an immediate spark. But I also don’t mind waiting, because although we had the spark, we’ve spent time getting…”

She shut me up by kissing me. One hell of a kiss that told me everything that she wanted from me that afternoon and beyond. She was light so carrying her back to the blanket I’d unwrapped and laid down wasn’t particularly difficult, and once she was laying on her back, I sat back on my knees and drank her in. She did the same thing and it was the first time she got a proper look at my cock. I’d worn trousers every time we’d gone to sleep before.

“Damn,” she whispered, “I mean, I feel it prod me every morning…”

“I won’t lie. I’ve heard compliments before.”

She met my eyes with a smirk. “Do you have talent with anything else, I wonder?”

“Oh, I take it you want something else first, Miss Merigold?”

She sat up and kissed me again before leaning back just enough to meet my eyes. “It’s been… too long, Ragnar,” she whispered, “Since I felt the touch of a man so intimately.”

“Must be a lot of pathetic men around.”

That made her grin. “Just waiting for the right one to be introduced to me.”

Running hands down her back, feeling the occasional scar of her own, I pulled her close as we resumed kissing. Though we’d done a lot of kissing before, we’d always been dressed, mostly anyway. This time, there was nothing to stop us being intimate, and I knew it was what we’d both wanted since that first night together.

Lying her back, I could have teased her, but I think we’d teased each other enough. A gentle fondle made her gasp and told me what I wanted to know, and so although I could have given her body attention, she gave me the eyes that told me what she wanted. Lowering my mouth as she slowly spread her legs, that first taste was… exquisite. Like savouring a fine wine. A strange comparison, sure, but I knew from that first moment that I’d happily do it the rest of my life.

“Yes,” she breathed as, in addition to my tongue, I slid a couple of fingers inside, searching for that spot I knew every woman had. She shuddered when I did that. “Ragnar,” she breathed, feeling her fingers run through my hair, looking up to see her looking down at me. The smile on her face was breath-taking, but the shimmer in her eyes suggested it was a big moment for her. Hell, it almost got to me for a moment.

Then I watched her head roll back as she cried out, feeling her squeeze my fingers, her back arch slightly as there was no doubt she was enjoying quite the orgasm. Normally I’d just keep going, but when heard her whisper that she needed me to stop, I did so straight away, removing my fingers and slowly kissing up her bodies, watching her shake slightly whenever my lips pressed against her skin. When her eyes opened and met mine, I was dragged down for one hell of a kiss.

Sliding inside her barely a few seconds later, it’s safe to say that the best way to describe our first time was making love. I loved every second, the feeling of being inside her, the way her body reacted to whatever I did, the way her fingers dug into my back as she whimpered quietly.

“Cum in me,” she breathed.

I was planning on doing that either way, but hearing a woman say that was just… erotic was the word I would use. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything else, Miss Merigold,” I whispered back.

“We’re doing this the rest of the day. I don’t really want to move,” she said with a giggle.

“But I love watching a woman ride me,” I replied, stopping for a moment, buried inside her.

“Oh, I was definitely going to do that, Ragnar. I want you to watch me ride you.”

“Though I wear a Talos medallion, I’m definitely going to thank Dibella tonight.”

“Who’s Dibella?”

“She is the Goddess of Beauty, Love and Affection. Others just call her the Lady of Love.”

“Might have to become a worshipper myself,” she said, before kissing me, “Keep going, Ragnar. I love this feeling already. Going to want it all the time…”

“I hope so.”

I didn’t last much longer. It amused Triss in the fact I was ever so excited, but having not made love since arriving, it wasn’t a real surprise. As I rested on forearms, she just wrapped me up in her arms and legs, feeling her soft kisses on my face. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she whispered.

“I usually…”

“I don’t care, Ragnar,” she whispered, “I loved every second so far.” I lifted my head to look at her face. The smile was… so utterly genuine, I had to lean down and kiss her, and within a few seconds, I was gently pumping into her again, much to her amusement. “Knew that would work,” she added with a giggle.

She was riding me a little later, and I could compare it to only one or two lovers I’d had previously. And I just had to sit up and finally give those breasts of her some attention. She loved it, so much that, thanks to the attention of my mouth on her breasts, and the way she was riding me, she enjoyed another orgasm. Even better than the first one, I think, and good enough that she stopped and hugged me tightly. When finally leaned back, I had to raise a hand to gently wipe at her cheek. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“I might not cry often, but trust me, I feel it often enough. I usually bury everything down when dealing with the worst life will throw at me, and then at moments like this, I can’t stop it bursting out at times. Not tears, but all the feelings I have.”

“What feelings do you have for me?” she asked quietly, and I could hear the nerves.

“They’re intense already, Triss.”

It made her smile again. “Me too,” she said, and her next kiss just added to what she already felt for me. Laying back down, she came with me as she started to ride me again, my fingers running down her back before resting my hands on her pert little butt. “Want to cum again,” she said.

“Just use me for as long as you want,” I said with a chuckle.

“Might take you up on that one day.”

She enjoyed two more before I came again, and after that, we agreed to stop for the time being. Sitting together to eat and drink, not bothering to dress, we chatted about our lives, making sure there was plenty of laughter as I shared some of my mis-adventures back on Skyrim. She was amazed at some of the things I’d been up to, particularly my battles against dragons, fairly sure she was holding her breath in anticipation, despite the fact I’d clearly survived as I was sitting next to her.

After a quick wash in the water, we dressed and walked back to Kaer Morhen. Even Ciri could figure out why we’d been gone all day and what we’d likely been doing. Triss didn’t exactly tell the young girl what we were doing, simply stating we had enjoyed a fun afternoon together.

It was certainly the best day of my life on this new world so far.

* * *

_Present day…_

I woke up alone. No sign of Keira, but I wasn’t worried at the portal was open, so I figured she’d simply woken before me. I dressed and headed through to find she was busy making breakfast. Cuddling her from behind, nuzzling into her neck, it made her giggle as she asked me to take a seat. I was certainly feeling ravenous, particularly after the energy expended the previous evening,

She walked over the table a few minutes later with what looked like bacon and eggs. Smelled delicious, and I polished my plate off in a matter of a couple of minutes. Keira picked at her food and I could see she had something on her mind, no doubt about the favour she had to ask me.

“What’s on your mind, Keira?”

“I know I asked a favour of you, Ragnar, but I’m worried it’s…” She paused and met my eyes. “I’m aware of all your talents but you’re not a witcher. You don’t know about all the monsters one can possibly meet. And the favour I ask might be…”

“I’m not worried about what you’re going to ask. If it’s something I don’t know how to solve, I’ll just contact Geralt. So, let’s make this simple. Where am I going?”

“A place called Fyke Isle. It’s south of here. I own a little boat that’s moored on the shore, so at least you can get there without needing to swim.”

“Okay, Fyke Isle. I’ll consult the map and figure out. What am I doing on Fyke Isle?”

“Lifting a curse.”

“Slightly outside my realm of understanding, but when there’s a will, there’s a way.”

She rushed out of the room, returning a few seconds later with the lamp we had taken. “This will help you. It will highlight and spirits that might inhabit the island. With any lucky, they will be friendly rather than dangerous, and hopefully you can build a rapport with them.”

“Seriously?” I asked, unable to hide a tone of not being convinced by the idea.

“You don’t need be a witcher to speak with spirits and ghosts. And this lamp will highlight any that you may come across. Most are simply echoes of the past and you won’t be able to interact with them. But there are those that will communicate with you. I’ve already managed to do so this morning.”

“So that’s why I woke up alone.”

She smiled before leaning across, giving me a brief kiss. “I thought I wore you out last night.”

“We could always enjoy an encore once you finish telling me what you need.”

She leaned back. “Once you’re back from Fyke Isle, Ragnar.”

“Ah, you would like this done immediately?” She reached across and grabbed my hand. “I figured it was important, Keira. It’s fine. Anything else I need to know? Why is it haunted or cursed, for example?”

“There’s a tower on the island and it’s reported that is where Vserad, the lord of these lands, took refuge when Nilfgaard invaded. That’s all well and good, but due to the war, the peasants were left to fend for themselves, so apparently a group of them sailed to the isle to beg for food. It turned nasty and into a massacre.”

“Massacre? Why?”

“From what I’ve been told, Vserad had them poisoned. I knew a mage that lived there once. He failed to survive the carnage as well.”

“Sorry to hear.”

“So am I.”

I gave it some thought then realised something. “He was the lord of these lands? Hang on, was he based at Crow’s Perch?”

“Yes. The baron who runs it now, I don’t know his name, is not the same man, but I do know many call him the ‘Bloody Baron’.”

“Hmmm. Hope Geralt lets me know how his first meeting goes. Anyway, Fyke Isle. Curse. Why don’t you come with?”

She was still holding my hand, so gave it a squeeze. “I’m a sorceress, Ragnar. Approaching such magic… I tried the once and I thought my head was going to burst. But this curse needs lifting. The villagers, you see. They’ve asked more than once. I think they knew some of those who probably died. And if I don’t help them…” She shuddered. “The witch hunters don’t just pursue those in Novigrad, Ragnar.”

“They’re working this far south?”

“Velen is without the rule of law. Nilfgraad stay further south, Radovid is over the river. The only law that applies is either that of some despot, like the Bloody Baron, or those who have power and influence. And all it will take is a few villagers to cry ‘witch’ for a few of those bastards to come searching for me.”

“I think you’ve kept the red hair to make me more agreeable too.”

That made her smile. “I actually like it, Ragnar. And, yes, I will use whatever I can to get the help I need. I won’t say it’s a matter of life and death, but while it’s covering my own arse, are you not intrigued as to why there is a curse? And lifting it is a good thing regardless.”

“I’ll admit to interest. I’ve dealt with more than one curse back on Skyrim.”

She squeezed my hand again, one of those genuine, heart-warming smiles appearing. “Thank you, Ragnar,” she said softly.

Dressing in my armour before picking up my weapons, Keira handed me a few things in a small bag she thought I might need. Before mounting my horse, she grabbed and dragged me in for a kiss, rather hot and heavy, eventually walking her back to her door, pressing her against it and eventually earning the sort of whimper I always liked to hear.

Without a word, I broke the kiss and mounted my horse, glancing to see Keira looking at me with colour in her cheek. She waved me off as I dug my heels into my horse and headed off. The ride south took a couple of hours, following the directions Keira had given me. Approaching the shore of Lake Wyndamer, I followed it until I found a boat moored on a small dock. Dismounting, I tied my horse to a tree and approached the boat, checking it was seaworthy before stepping on board, undoing the rope before grabbing the oars and beginning to row across. No point using the sail for such a small journey.

Fyke Isle was almost directly in the middle of the lake, the tower appeared to be in the middle of the isle. It didn’t take too long to cross, as there was little wind and the water was calm. It was good exercise, to be honest, so that by the time I stepped off on the other side, it had been like a good warm up before I started some exercise.

I had to deal with a few monsters. I didn’t have silver, but digging through Keira’s bag of goodies, I did find little jars of oil, all labelled up for me. I’d learned from Vesemir how to make oils for the most basic of monster I’d run into, but it was nice to always be prepared. Drowners were rather easy, even for someone like me, particularly when I used my Thu’um. Rotfiends were something else entirely. Quicker than drowners, and they blew up when their health ran low. It wasn’t the blood; it was the smell. Enough to make even the strongest man gag at the stench.

The tower appeared to have been well barricaded once upon a time, though most of the wooden structure had long since collapsed or fallen into disrepair. There was a calm air about the place, but also that sense that crawled up my back that told me things were not as they seemed. Remembering Keira’s magic lamp, I pulled that out of my small bag. It lit itself up automatically, and after wandering around for a few minutes, found some sort of magic source that showed some spirts, or maybe they were ghosts.

As for the tower, it was full of rats and ghosts. I ignored the rats, as they didn’t appear to be a bother, but I did listen to any ghosts that I passed, thanks to the magic lamp. It didn’t make for pleasant listening most of the time. The lord had been butchered as soon as the peasants had broken in. If they’d just done that, I would have understood. I’d known plenty of rulers who were cruel and deserved punishment for how they acted. But when they spoke of going after his family, that’s when I knew things had gotten out of hand.

The higher I climbed, the eerier it was. Again, that creepy feeling that had me unsheathing my weapon and turning at the sound of any noise. Didn’t help with all the rats crawling around, but they were not bothering me. Quite frankly, I was already thinking they should just come and tear the tower down.

Finding a fresh body wasn’t something I expected. Shining the lamp near it suggested there was something else in the tower. What it was, I didn’t have a clue, but it was clearly responsible for the death of the man. Checking the wounds, I could tell the difference between someone killed by a blade, whether a sword, axe or hatchet, or the wounds left by something or someone else.

Keira was occasionally in my ear through the xenovox but she could hear the slight nerves in my tone, so generally left me alone to investigate. Making it to what I thought was the top, I eventually found a secret door that led me up to the laboratory of the mage that had been living in the tower… and also the lonely ghost, the daughter of the lord, Annabelle.

I’d never conversed with a ghost before. I did feel a little out of my depth, figuring Geralt or another witcher could possibly connect with the ghost better than I could. So I kept my questions simple, my mind open, but also knew that the ghost would possible ask if not plead for something that just wouldn’t sit right. There was a curse on the island, after all. The fresh body downstairs lingered in my mind.

Annabelle confirmed the story of what happened that day. The peasants arriving. The death of her family members. The mage was also killed. But she had been given a potion to drink. Thinking it would have been something to kill her, instead it was a paralysing poison. She woke later, she wasn’t sure how much longer, to realise she was still paralysed, and the tower was now infested with rats. Her end was… horrific. I felt nothing but sorrow for her.

But she was also a vessel of hate and, thinking back to my times on the road with Geralt, I could figure out she was the source of the curse. There was no missing the hatred she felt for those who had attacked the tower, but there was also hatred for a single person.

Graham, her former lover.

What sent a slight shiver up and down my spine was what she could tell me about the mage. Kept himself locked up in his laboratory all the time, experimenting on all sorts of things, including something called the Catriona. As she continued to speak, I took a look around and was horrified by the act I found human bodies having been used in experiments. The fact he was also looking into plague research left me wondering just what he’d been trying to do, and I was immediately wondering if Keira was interested in more than just lifting the curse.

When it came to breaking the curse, it was easy enough to figure out. Hate had caused the curse so love would break it. Graham was still alive, according to Annabelle, so all I needed to do was find him, bring him to the tower, then it would hopefully break it.

But through it all, something just didn’t sit right with the ghost. She contradicted her story too often. And when she asked me to take her bones to Graham, I refused without hesitation. I’d read enough stories that just bones themselves could unleash all sorts of horrors, and considering they were the bones of a dead girl at the centre of a curse, I just wasn’t that stupid, even though I felt pity for the poor girl.

She didn’t like that, of course, and that’s when she turned into some sort of wraith. “Oh fuck!” I exclaimed. Strangely, she didn’t attack me, instead rushing past me to the door. Taking one last look around, I swore again before chasing after the wraith, bounding down the stairs to eventually catch up with it outside.

By Ysmir, it was perhaps one of the most horrific things I’d seen. No ordinary wraith. I’d seen plenty of those on my travels either alone or with Geralt and others. The wraith immediately went on the attack. I didn’t have silver, and had no real way of fighting it. No time to check my bag. The only thing I could use was my Thu’um. But I had no idea what would work against a wraith like this.

YOL – TOOR – SHUL

Fire usually works, and it certainly worked a charm against the wraith, but before it disappeared, it claimed it could not be killed, at least not through ordinary means. That meant I’d definitely have to lift the curse.

I knew I’d need Geralt, or at least his advice. Taking out the xenovox, I hoped he could hear me. “Geralt? You hear me?”

 _“Aye, I hear you, Ragnar. What’s the problem?”_ I explained everything I’d discovered so far, and described the wraith I’d just fought as well. _“Sounds like a plague maiden, Ragnar, otherwise known as pesta. You said there was a curse?”_

“Aye. The ghost, Annabelle, she spoke of love for this Graham, but it’s manifested itself into deep hatred. Definitely the source of the curse. She did ask me to take the bones, but I refused. I’m just wondering what I should do next? Get Graham and bring him here?”

_“Good decision regarding the bones. Now that you know it’s a plague maiden, if you’d done what she asked, she would have escaped and caused god only knows how much destruction. She’s definitely the centre of this curse, and from what you’ve told me, I would see if you can locate this Graham. Is he still alive?”_

“Aye. Annabelle said she’d know if he was dead.”

_“That tells me they are linked by the curse somehow. Keira, are you listening?”_

_“I am, Geralt.”_

_“Do you know anything about all of this? Do you know who this Graham is?”_

_“I’ve heard the name. From what I’ve learned, man of the peasants who attacked the tower were from the village of Oreton. It’s on the northern shore of the lake opposite Fyke Isle, Ragnar. He should still be there.”_

“Okay, I’ll head there and see if I can find him. Keira, I’ll break this curse before returning.”

_“Okay. Good luck, Ragnar.”_

“Geralt, how goes your progress?”

_“I’m near Crow’s Perch now. Heard plenty of stories about this baron. I’m not sure how co-operative he is going to be but we’ll see how things go.”_

“Keep me informed.”

_“Will do. See you later, Ragnar.”_

Walking back to my boat, I had to row it across the stretch of water. Weather had closed in, the water was choppy, and the journey took far longer than I would have liked. By the time I made it across to what I thought was Oreton, it was dark and I knew I wouldn’t be returning to the island until the next morning. Despite the weather, there were still fishermen working to bring in their catch. Asking after Graham, I was pointed down the shore towards an isolated homestead, told he lived there alone, and had little to do with anyone else after what happened.

Knocking on the door a few minutes later, I heard a voice telling me to piss off. That just made me bang louder. “I’m here about Fyke Isle, Graham,” I shouted over the howling wind, “Let me in. It’s fucking awful out here.”

The door opened, revealing the face of a man still in the stages of grief. There were smells that immediately floated out which I ignored as he gestured for me to enter. He was eating dinner, so I took a seat opposite him at the table. He was polite enough to offer me a plate, thanking him as I’d barely eaten all day. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I’m here about Fyke Isle, Graham.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “How do you know my name, stranger?”

“As I said, I’m here about Fyke Isle. I’ve just been there. Spoke to Annabelle.”

Shaking his head, he said quietly, “Impossible. Annabelle is dead, stranger. She drank poison. I couldn’t save her.”

I sighed and explained what I could, leaving out some of the gorier details he simply didn’t need to know. When I let him know about the curse that infected the isle, his eyes widened in fear. “Curse?”

“Aye. You know anything about that?”

“I know I cursed everyone when I left because of what they did to Annabelle.”

Nodding in understanding, I asked, “Do you still love her?”

He wiped his mouth and stood up, gesturing for me to follow. He led me to a small shrine. There was a simple picture with flowers and the scent of incense burning. “Never forgotten her, stranger.”

“Ragnar,” I said, offering my hand, which he took and shook.

“I’ve felt responsible for it every day, Ragnar. I was the luckiest man. The noble’s daughter in love with some… simpleton like me. But we talked and talked and had such hopes and dreams. She was willing to give it all up just to be with me. Her, the most beautiful girl in the land, ready to be the wife of some simple fisherman.”

“The power of love right there, Graham.”

He turned to meet my eyes. “Tell me what I need to do, Ragnar.”

“Tomorrow morning, we go to Fyke Isle. Annabelle needs to forgive you to break the curse. Once that is done, the isle will be cleansed.”

“I don’t have a spare bed so…”

“I can take the floor. I’ve certainly slept on worse. I have a roof over my head considering the weather outside.”

He clearly wasn’t going to be much for conversation, so I found a corner I could lie in and simply went to sleep. He woke me the next morning with a soft kick to the boot. Looking at his face, it was obvious he hadn’t slept much the night before. In fact, I think he barely slept at all nowadays. He appeared to be exhausted.

Offering me a piece of bread to chew on, we wasted no time departing. It was a grey, overcast day as we stepped onto his boat, letting him take the control. There was enough wind for the sail to billow, but he still used the oars to add additional speed and direction.

We docked close to the tower. The confidence Graham had the night before disappeared as soon as we approached the tower. I couldn’t really blame him, so stopped to give him a pep talk before carrying on. Walking through the door, I was immediately set upon by two wraiths. That’s when Graham learned I carried a secret of my own as I unleashed the full power of my Thu’um.

“I thought you were a witcher,” he murmured.

“No. My friend is. I’m something else entirely.”

“Obviously.”

Graham felt a great sense of unease as we climbed the tower. Couldn’t blame him again considering the last time he’d been here, the lord and his family had been slaughtered, and he’d lost the love of his life. Even I could admit the place was just eerie, but knowing what had happened, and the fact there was a curse very much infecting the tower, it was little wonder the place made my skin crawl.

Walking into the laboratory, the plague maiden was waiting for us again. Since she didn’t attack me this time, I got a good look at her. Half her face was missing. An enormous tongue hung out of what remained of her mouth. Her clothing was old and ruined. There was a slight smell of rot and decay. Graham stepped into the room and looked at the plague maiden. If he felt any sense of horror, he kept it well hidden.

“You have not forgotten me. You have returned to me,” Annabelle stated.

He glanced at me. “Is that… is that…”

“Don't you recognize me? It's me, Anabelle, the one you abandoned, remember?”

He took a faltering step forward, then took a deep breath, his next couple more confident. “Anabelle, I was sure ye were dead. If I'd known otherwise, I'd a never have left ye! I'd do anything for ye, I would. Ye know that well. Believe me, I beg ye.”

“Prove it. Kiss me.”

I wasn’t stupid. I knew that a simple kiss was going to break the spell, but the consequences could be… Graham glanced back and met my eyes. I think he knew as well. We exchanged a simple nod. He knew the price was going to be worth it.

I was going to look away, but I’ll admit curiosity, watching as Graham stepped towards the plague maiden. Lifting a hand to her face, he gently caressed it before leaning forward to kiss her. Just before their mouths met, the plague maiden flashed away to replaced by Annabelle. No wonder he’d fallen in love with her. As the kiss deepened, hugging each other tightly, it was obvious what the outcome would be…

Graham collapsed to the floor, obviously dead. Annabelle lowered herself slowly to the ground and caressed his face in return. “At last,” she whispered, before she looked up at me and smiled, her beauty radiating around the room. No wonder he’d loved her.

“Thank you,” she said, before she slowly disappeared in what seemed a cloud of black smoke.

I didn’t want to leave Graham there. His last act of life had been heroic, gently picking him up and carrying him downstairs. I found plenty of wood to burn, lying his body on the makeshift pyre, covering his body in a little of the oil I had, before using a spell to light it all. I stood back and lowered my head in respect. He no doubt knew the cost once he agreed to come with me. But knowing there was an afterlife, having experienced it personally, I could only smile at the thought they were together once again, and now forever.

Once his body was little more than ash, I had to take a seat, simply to catch my breath. I may have been a brute of a warrior, but even the hardest of hearts could appreciate a love story, but like so many it seemed, it had ended in triumph but also tragedy. Taking out the xenovox, I asked, “Keira?”

_“Ragnar? What’s wrong?”_

“Nothing. Fyke Isle is cleansed of its curse.”

_“You sound strange. Sure you’re okay?”_

I cleared my throat. “Aye, I’m okay. Just reminded of one or two things. Graham is dead, but I think he knew that would be the price the moment I told him about Annabelle. Brave man. Braver than many I’ve ever met. But at least it means Annabelle is now also at peace.”

_“True loves power. Come home, Ragnar. There’s nothing else for you there.”_

“I’ll be back there soon.”

I took a final moment to look upon the tower, now at peace. Part of me wanted to just burn it all to the ground, but I figured that wasn’t my decision. Walking away, I found Keira’s boat and rowed that in the direction of where she had originally left it moored, arriving back at her house in the early afternoon. I must have had a look on my face once she saw me, as the first thing she did was hug me. “It was a happy ending, sort of,” I muttered.

“Thank you for doing that,” she whispered in return.

Mentioning I was hungry, I was sat down and a plate of food placed in front of me within a couple of minutes, Keira sitting across from me as I mentioned some of the things I’d found, particularly the laboratory and the experiments Alexander had been up to. She expressed no surprise, admitting she knew about him and his research, though admitted to being slightly horrified when I mentioned the human test subjects.

“Rest here tonight, Ragnar. We’ll focus on what do next in the morning.”

What I wanted after all of that was a wash, so the invite to back to the glade was gratefully accepted. Once in the hot water, she sat behind me and I felt soft hands soon all over my body as I was cleaned in all the important parts. Having yourself washed in that sort of manner is always very sensual, and it would perhaps come as no surprise that I ended up sat back with Keira on my lap, cock buried inside her as she rode herself slowly. The look in her eyes was certainly one of appreciation, not just for the sex, but for the favours I’d done for her so far.

She had kept the red hair for the time being as well. I guess she perhaps had one or two more favours to ask before I would finally head off to help Geralt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback always appreciated, and you'll generally get a response, even if it's just to say 'Thanks!'
> 
> Any questions answered as long as it doesn't spoil things.
> 
> Or you could always press that little 'kudos' button. I'm sure I'm not the only author who enjoys seeing that daily email saying how much kudos each of their story received. That shit is like crystal meth. Addictive!
> 
> Otherwise, thanks for reading so far.


	7. A Night to Remember

I was on horseback again. I’d woken next to Keira the next morning, and after another round of lovemaking, always the best way to start a day, she asked another favour. I had a feeling I was taking payment for all these favours in the form of sexual favours in return, but considering I’d done that before on Skyrim, and the fact I genuinely liked her, I didn’t mind.

I was approaching what was locally known as Hangman’s Alley, as there was at least a dozen or so bodies hanging at the end of a rope. Some bodies were fresh. Others… were not. That normally wouldn’t have bothered me, and I would have just got on with finding the merchant that had been delivering good direct to Keira.

But first, I had to deal with a small mob. Dismounting some distance away, I kept my sword sheathed for the time being as I approached the group, and I noticed the lone Nilfgaardian on the ground. He was bruised and bloodied, obvious that the locals had already taken retribution against them for the invasion that had taken place months before.

“What’s going on here?” I demanded, making sure my voice almost boomed around the entire region.

“He’s a fuckin’ Black One. We’re gonna ‘ang ‘im!” one of the peasants replied.

“You best fuck off before you join ‘im,” another threatened.

“What has this man done to deserve such punishment?” I wondered.

“He’s a fuckin’ Black One. Anyone wearin’ that emblem deserves to ‘ang,” the first peasant replied.

“Is this man responsible for every murder and crime committed during the conflict?”

There was no reply for a few seconds. “Maybe, maybe not. But he’s a Black One. He deserves to ‘ang,” another peasant replied.

I took a few steps forward. Being taller and broader, despite the fact they were armed with clubs and rusty swords, all but one took a few steps back. Keeping an eye on them, I asked, “What’s your story, Nilfgaardian? Why are you here?”

“Please help me!” he pleaded, “I have a wife and child. A newborn. I’m a deserter! I didn’t want to fight. I just want to go home!”

“Back off!” one of the peasant warned, “He’s goin’ to ‘ang! Fuck off or you join ‘im.”

Unsheathing my sword, I sighed. “I warn you only once. Leave the man be.”

The warning fell on deaf ears, one of the peasant charging. I stepped and swung, putting him on the ground with one stroke. That lit the fire within the others, and I was soon taking on five at once. That’s when they discovered, in addition to skill with my sword, I had magic. I knew they were peasants, that they’d seen the worst of war, that they had probably had their few possessions requisitioned, that they were likely hungry, but while I had no love for anyone wearing the black armour of Nilfgaard, I wasn’t going to let any man in uniform be strung up like a common criminal.

I tried to injure them only, but they were angry, and wouldn’t listen to reason. I killed one at time, hoping they’d back off, but seeing their friends killed simply increased their anger. And angry as they were, and without any talent with the weapons they wielded, they dropped easily but refused to see sense. Face to face with the last one, I almost begged for him to just drop his weapon and walk away.

“You killed my fuckin’ friends, you cunt. I’m going to kill you in return.”

I sighed, waited for him to strike… and then I took his head. “Fucking idiots,” I muttered to myself before I approached the Nilfgaardian. I placed the bloodied point of the sword at his throat. “You had better not have lied to me,” I growled.

“I swear I didn’t, sire. I have a letter, from my wife. I can show you if you untie me.”

Sheathing my sword, I helped him up and undid the binding at his wrists before he took a letter from inside his jacket, handing it over for me to read.

_Dilvyn,_

_I lost my father and brother in the last Nordling war. Please, come back to me, for I'm afraid I'll lose my husband, too, and our little Beatrys will lose her father._

_I know the punishment for desertion. But I also know some men have made it home unscathed. We'll hide at Iffan's farm, you'll wait out the war in peace there._

_I pray for you every day._

_Alveen_

I sighed with relief that I’d made the right choice. Enough fathers, husbands and sons had already died in this godforsaken war. He might have been my enemy at one point, but my war was over, and as I said, I wasn’t going to stand by and someone lynch. I handed the latter back. “Thank you,” he said, offering his hand, which I shook without hesitation.

“Okay, you need to head south immediately, Dilvyn. My best suggestion would be to keep to the back roads, avoid any towns and villages, and get to the Yaruga as quickly as you can. You might wear the black but men from either side deserve to make it home alive to their families.”

“What is your name, sire? So I can tell my wife and child who saved my life.”

“Ragnar. Ragnar Dragonborn.”

“I will pray for your health and safety every day, Ragnar Dragonborn. I owe you my life.”

“Keep those prayers for the health and safety of your daughter. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

We shook hands again as he picked up a small pack and started off in the opposite direction. If he took my advice, I had a feeling he’d probably make it to the river. Once across, I had no idea what they’d do if found by his own people, but I knew desertion was not taken lightly by any side in a war. If caught, he might end up hanging despite my best intentions to keep him alive.

Without the enhanced senses Geralt had, trying to find any sign of a merchant in the area was difficult. I looked up and down the road at least three times before I found a sign that a cart had perhaps careered off the road, as there was a gap in bushes not far from the road that anyone would look at and think something was amiss. When I found a couple of packages that would likely have fallen off a cart, I knew I was walking in the right direction.

I found the cart a few hundred metres away. The horse was dead, its guts ripped out, but no sign of why it had ended up off the road it had been travelling. Following a blood trail that even I couldn’t miss, I found the body of the merchant against at tree, obviously hiding from whatever had spooked him and the horse.

Returning to the cart, I picked up a few suppliers and found a package with a tag stating it was for Keira. Feeling inquisitive, I had a look and figured within a few seconds that she had ordered in some luxuries instead of magical items. Couldn’t really blame her, to be honest, as I was left thinking she had been living in Velen for quite some time.

Taking the package with her name on it, plus grabbing one or two other things that might come in handy at a later time, I headed back to her place. She was pleased to see me return with the items she had bought. I could have made a joke about the fact that none of them had anything to do with magic, but I could understand her wanting at least a little luxury considering the life of nearly anyone else I’d met so far hadn’t been easy. I had no doubt what she’d purchased didn’t come cheap, no doubt keeping a little gold hidden away so she could buy such things.

“So what is your big idea behind all this?”

“Well, I originally ordered it all simply to treat myself to a luxury every now and then. But since you’re here, and you’ve proven so helpful… I think I might have to treat both of us instead.”

“Always enjoy some of the finer things in life.”

“I can prepare everything here, but I don’t want to eat here. I know a perfect little place nearby where we can go.”

“Ah, is it… romantic?”

“I bloody hope you think so, Ragnar.”

I chuckled before I kissed her cheek. “I’ll leave you to it then. I’m sure I can occupy myself for a couple of hours. Of course, the best way would involve you and no clothing, but if you’re too busy…”

She kissed me in return, then told me to shoo. I simply sat outside, soaking in the rather weak sunshine. There was barely a cloud in the sky but Velen just didn’t seem to ever get warm. I could handle it but I knew, when the weather closed in, with wind and rain, most of the peasants must have been chilled to the core.

Keira walked out a little later. She hadn’t changed, so I was wondering what she’d been up to. Gesturing down at the ground, I was surprised to see three white mice. I then watch in amazement as she turned the three mice into two beautiful white horses. Could have asked what happened to the third, but I wouldn’t have understood anyway. Then she cast another spell, my armour disappearing, to be replaced by the sort of exquisite finery I’m sure was reserved for nobility and royalty. I could only stare at her in surprise.

“Wow, you certainly scrub up nicely, Ragnar.”

Her dress was something else entirely. Stuck to every curve, and the neckline was almost laughably low. And she had kept the red hair. I looked up for a moment. “Dibella, I’m going to thank you for this evening right now.”

“Might scream her name later myself, Ragnar.”

“Where’s the food?” I asked.

“Waiting for us where I’ve planned. Ready? I figured we could ride there together first.”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

The ride took a little while. We passed through a couple of villages, and also skirted what looked like a refugee camp, people hoping to escape over the river north. It was growing dark by the time we turned off the path and headed into the forest, and what was waiting for us simply beggared belief. Candles illuminated the small clearing. A table and two chairs. The table was covered in food and bottles of liquor. Ever the gentleman, I made sure Keira was sat first before I took my seat.

The food was delightful, fragrant and tasty, perhaps the best food I’d eaten in months. The wine simply accentuated the food, the perfect accompaniment to the meal. Keira and I made small talk as we knew the whole reason we were there that evening, spending most of the time lightly flirting and teasing one another. Basically, we turned each other on through words before we go to the physical aspect.

Once we’d eaten our fill, but made sure we only drank enough to get a light buzz, Keira suggested we play a game. “Close your eyes and count to ten. You’ll have to find me.”

I did as she asked, opening my eyes to find she’d disappeared but leaving a clue, leaving a glove on the ground nearby. Considering there was a path leading down the shore of the lake, it was easy to figure out where she’d gone. As I walked down the path, I found other things, such as her shoes, her dress, and her bra and panties. That disappointed me slightly as I always liked taking off a woman’s underwear.

Keira was waiting for me on a blanket, sitting on her knees, now only wearing stocking and suspenders. Around the blanket were candles and what looked like small baskets with nibbles, and also another bottle of wine. Being on her knees, I assumed she wanted one thing. Meeting her eyes, she smiled and nodded as I stopped in front of her, her hands immediately going to the belt, button then fly of my trousers. Once my cock was free, she wasted no time lowering her lips around my shaft, head quickly bobbing up and down as she looked up, already eager for me to cum.

Reaching down, I ran fingers through her red hair. “Oh, definitely. I take it you want it?” She made an approving sound, almost desperate to make me cum quickly. “Well, I’ll be returning the favour big time, just so you know.”

She pulled back long enough to say, “Ragnar, I hope you eat my pussy half the night.”

“Make me cum and I’ll start as soon as I can.”

Considering how turned on I already was, she probably blew me for all of five minutes before I came in her mouth. And she seemed eager not to spill a drop, hearing her make a couple of audible gulps, which made me chuckle, her head continuing to bob up and down until she knew I was empty, though remained rock hard as I leaned down to kiss her. “Well, I enjoyed that, Keira.”

“Something to remember me by?”

“Oh?”

“I know you need to leave eventually, Ragnar. I’m just glad to have had your company for a few days.”

She helped me undress until I was almost as naked as herself, lying her back on the blanket. Spreading her legs almost provocatively, she asked, “What do you plan now, Ragnar?”

“I’m going to give every inch of your body attention, Keira. Then I’m going to give your pussy so much attention, you’ll be left in two minds whether you want me to keep going or to stop.”

“I love the sound of that. I do hope you plan on fucking me later.” I met her eyes and grinned. “I want the Dragonborn tonight. I just want him to… dominate me. Not in the way some might think. I just mean…” She leaned up and kissed me. “I’ll shut up and just enjoy whatever you do next.”

I did exactly what I said I’d do, giving her entire body attention. I loved her breasts and certainly gave them attention, making her laugh and moan at the same time when I gave her hard nipples plenty of gentle nibbles and what seemed like suckling at them at times. But the way her body reacted suggested she enjoyed it immensely. While my mouth was busy there, my fingers were gently teasing and fondling her pussy, feeling how wet she was getting. When I lifted my fingers, curious to see what she would do, when she sucked them when I slid them into her mouth, my cock definitely throbbed.

“Naughty,” I murmured.

Slowly kissing down her body, she eventually pleaded quietly, “Please.”

Her scent alone was divine. I loved the scent of a woman when she was turned on. I’d occasionally just inhale, to the sound of their giggles. Touching her with my tongue almost caused her to leap up as she was already very turned on and incredibly sensitive. “Oh god,” she moaned quietly.

Wrapping a hand around each thigh, I buried my mouth, eager to make her cum with just my mouth and tongue at first. And as turned on as she was, I knew it was going to happen. That’s simply from experience, not arrogance. Her body reacted in a manner I could recognise, shuddering slightly as her back would arch slightly, head rolling back as she moaned a little louder. “Ragnar,” she breathed.

She enjoyed her first orgasm a little later once I started to gentle flick her clit in addition. The first time I did it, she almost jolted a foot off the blanket, giggling as she whispered it was sensitive, but felt wonderful, before she finally did orgasm. And when she pleaded with me to keep going, I obliged, of course, though this time I removed my right hand from around her thigh, licked a couple of fingers, and gently slid them inside.

That did the trick, as although I could sense that she was trying to hold back her next one, when I felt her start to squeeze my fingers and her back arching once again, I knew she was already close again. “Oh god!” she cried out, seeming to realise we were completely alone and could make all the noise she wanted, “Oh god, I can’t wait until you fuck me soon!” she added with a chuckle.

“I’m going to wear you out first,” I murmured, my mouth now focusing on her clit and around it, the entire area proving sensitive to anything I did.

I don’t think I wore her out, but by the time she’d enjoyed another couple of orgasms, she was in two minds about me continuing or stopping, and considering I did want to fuck her, I figured I should relent and allow her to catch her breath for a couple of minutes. Slowly kissing up her body after another orgasm, I eventually hovered above hers, the smile on her face broad as she started to giggle. “No wonder most of the Lodge ended up fucking you, Ragnar,” she stated, “Before you fuck me, can I ask a question?”

“Anything, Keira.”

“Did you end up fucking Philippa? I have an idea of who you’ve been with, but there are one or two I just can’t be sure about. I know Philippa has a reputation for only being interested in women.”

“A gentleman never tells, Kiera.”

“Fair enough. Did you find her attractive?”

“Keira, I think it’s obvious I have a real thing for attractive sorceresses.”

Lining up my cock, gently running it up against her slit, I definitely groaned as I slid inside her. She released a little gasp once it was buried, slowly starting to pump into her, leaning down to kiss her as I felt her fingers immediately dig into my back, her heels rest on my lower back, just above my arse, as I wasted no time picking up the tempo. I was turned on and wanted to cum inside her. She seemed to sense that, urging me on to go harder and faster. That meant I lasted perhaps five minutes before I buried myself and groaned loudly. “That’s it, Ragnar,” she breathed, “I love that feeling.”

I gave myself five minutes’ rest before I rolled onto my back, taking her with me. She immediately started to ride me, but with my hands at her hips, I was pumping up into her at the same time. Watching her body shake at what I was doing, her breasts jiggling about, she was loving it as much as I was. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” she moaned. That just made me almost grit my teeth and fuck her even faster. She… loved it. Absolutely loved it. And when I felt her start to squeeze my cock, I felt my eyes widen in surprise as she cried out my name. Then she collapsed on top of me, so I stopped though remained completely buried inside her.

“Roll me over and keep fucking me,” she murmured.

“Sure?”

“I want to wake up feeling well fucked in the morning.”

So I rolled her back onto her back, managing to spread her legs, pushing them back so they rested against my arms and just… pounded her, would be the best description. Our mouths barely parted, groaning and moaning together as I seemed to feel deeper than ever inside her, only breaking the kiss when she almost begged me to keep going and, if possible, go harder and faster. Despite the cool weather, I could feel my body starting to sweat, and she was feeling rather warm herself.

When I came inside her yet again, I wanted to keep going, but the body was suggesting I needed to take a break, leaning down to kiss her before gently pulling back and eventually out, collapsing onto the ground next to her. We lay side by side, breathing deeply, before we started to chuckle. “I think we needed that,” she murmured, rolling onto her side, cuddling into me.

“Always found you attractive, Keira. And I’m not just saying that because you’re naked next to me with my cum probably dribbling out of you.”

She giggled. “Well, it is… but I think you know what most of us thought of you the first time you walked in next to Triss.”

She rolled onto me and my cock disappeared inside her once again, and this time she controlled the tempo, riding me nice and slow. Gods, she felt good. Better than good, once again our mouths barely apart as my fingers slowly ran up and down her back, only breaking the kiss so she could lean back slightly to gaze into my eyes. The look in them suggested she rather like me by now. I liked her as much in return. Bending my legs, she grinned as it gave her a little more balance, though she kept the tempo mostly the same, now just enjoying the feeling of being connected so intimately.

“Sex this good, girl is bound to get feelings, Ragnar,” she whispered as she sat up, my hands moving from her back to her hips, running them slowly up and down her body, “But when something so good is inside me, little wonder they were all falling over themselves to be intimate.”

“I had a feeling you would have wanted to run things and keep me around for amusement.”

“Would you have enjoyed that?”

“Hmmm. Maybe a step or two above a gigolo, but I can think of much worse things in life to be.”

“A choice of any woman your heart would have desired, Ragnar. In fact, you would have had more than one quite often had it all not eventually collapsed.” She leaned down again, starting to ride me just a little faster. “Oh well, at least I’m getting to enjoy you right now.”

“No complaints from me either.”

Not sure how long we made love for until we stopped after enjoying an orgasm at roughly the same time. Rolling off and cuddling into me once again, we gazed up at the stars, not particularly chatting about anything, simply enjoyed the comfortable silence after enjoying what I hoped she thought was some rather good sex.

“Ragnar?” I turned my head to look at her. She leaned forward to kiss me. “Egvane navr.”

The next thing I knew, I woke up to the sound of birds tweeting, the sun shining on my face, and my clothes had changed back to my armour. As for Keira, there was no sign of her. I sat up and ran a hand down my face, trying to remember everything from the previous night. A lot of good memories, but I was left rather confused as to how I’d fallen asleep and where Keira had disappeared to.

Giving it further thought, I felt a cold shiver go down my spine. Geralt had mentioned his concern before he left. He knew I sometimes thought with something else other than my brain. Going over everything I’d been up to in the past few days, it all started to make sense. She hadn’t used me exactly, but there was no doubt there was a reason behind everything I’d done for her.

“Fuck,” I muttered. I had no horse to ride but I could figure out where I was. No doubt her boat wouldn’t be where it was. “Oreton. I’ll have to grab a boat there.”

Getting there took longer than I would have wanted, jogging or running most of the way there, so by the time I arrived, I was sweating heavily. Speaking to one of the fisherman, the boat I’d taken with Graham would have remained near the isle, so I convinced a fisherman to take me across on the promise of a few coins. Pressing them into his palm, he told me to get in and he started to row me across.

The spare boat was still there, so I knew I could get back at least, thanking the fisherman before I stepped off. The tower remained as eerily quiet as it had been when I’d walked out of it. Approaching the stairs that led up to the entrance, I leaned against the wall and waited for Keira to appear. I just knew this was where she’d come. I just couldn’t figure out why. Clearly something that mage she knew had interested her.

I had to wait a little while before Keira appeared, a bunch of notes in her hands. She didn’t look up as she started to descend, only doing so when I cleared my throat. Her eyes briefly widened in surprised before she rolled up the papers and placed them in her bag. “Sleep well, Ragnar?” she asked ever so sweetly, brushing past me as she started to walk away.

“Stop!” I ordered in a tone that made her almost jump before she turned around and glared at me. I took a couple of steps towards her. “I don’t appreciate being used, Keira.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints during the past few nights, Ragnar.”

“Was everything you said a lie?”

That hurt her. “No, of course not! But I saw an opportunity present itself so I took advantage of it.”

“I’m going to ask you one question and I want a completely honest response. What’s with the notes? Was this what it was all about?”

“Alexander was studying the Catriona plague. I'll use his notes to produce medication, perhaps a cure... or at least a vaccine.”

“So this was all a humanitarian effort on your part?”

“Not exactly. The mighty would pay willingly for such a remedy. Can you imagine how much? Take Radovid, for instance. Why, he might even consider forgetting my past associations with the Lodge.”

“You don’t seriously believe that, do you? Surely you’ve heard what he’s been up to in Novigrad. Witch hunters coming the countryside. Hundreds already killed. What makes you think he’ll do anything else with you except have you tied to a stake and burned?” I walked towards her, taking one her hands in both of minds. “Think, Keira. I understand why you want out of Velen. But this is not the way. Radovid is a fucking madman.”

She met my eyes and must have seen something in them. I honestly thought we were going to end up in a fight, and one of us would have to die. Instead, she took a deep breath, shook her hand free and turned around before she said, “Shut up for a moment and look at me.” She turned back a couple of paces away and spread her arms. “See this? Bedbugs, Ragnar. Bloody bedbugs! I, Keira Metz, advisor to Foltest and member of the Lodge of Sorceresses, have bedbugs! Think what you will, but I'll not stay in this bloody swamp one day more. Not one day! I shall cross the Pontar, and that means Radovid's men will find me sooner or later. Don't you understand?! I don't have a choice. I will have to parley.”

“There is always a choice, Keira. I would offer to protect you…” That made a slight grin form for a moment. I was unfailingly honest most of the time. “But we both know you can’t join me. Heading north is out. Heading south won’t be any safer. But there is one place that will always be safe for you.”

“Where?”

“Kaer Morhen. Yes, it’s an old fort, crumbling in places, but it’s cleaner than Velen. Air is cleaner.”

She sighed. “Fine, I guess it’s better than any alternative. Don’t really want to fight you either.”

I held out my hand. “I can’t let you take them, Keira. I’ll ensure they’re kept safe for now and end up in the right place. Your idea about a vaccine is worthy, but we’ll have to worry about such matters later.”

“You won’t burn them?”

“His methods were horrific; I won’t deny that. But if people smarter than me read these notes and see a way of ending plague, then the price might just have been worth paying. Just remember a lot of innocent people died for this.”

“I know, Ragnar. I saw the bodies too.” She sighed. “We had fun, didn’t we?”

I gestured for her to approach, and gave her a tight hug. “It was good to see you, Keira. Go to Kaer Morhen, wait it out. Do some research but stay out of trouble. Vesermir will appreciate the company, at least.”

We shared one last kiss before she let me go. “Okay, I’ll see you soon then, Ragnar. I’ll grab my things from home then make the journey.”

“Good luck, Keira. See you soon.”

She opened a portal and disappeared from view. Once I was alone, I placed the papers on the ground and burned them, digging my heel into the ashes to ensure not a single scrap survived. Absolutely no chance I was handing those to anyone. I believed in progress but not the way it was potentially achieved. Her mage friend must have been utterly insane, and what he had done to the people of Velen was beyond horrifying. If he had still lived, I’d have killed him myself.

Heading back to shore, I found Keira’s boat and rowed that across the lake to the mooring point, figuring I might as well tie it up as I might need it again sometime, before I began the long walk back to Keira’s place, as my horse was there. She had already packed up and gone by the time I returned, and as it was already dark, I found myself a little food to eat before turning in for the evening.

* * *

_A few years earlier…_

“This is your house?” I asked, knowing my jaw gaped in surprise.

“I am a member of the royal council to King Foltest, Ragnar, so of course I do have a large residence.”

“Well, sure, I understand that, but this is something else entirely.”

“You’re just too used to the crumbling ruin of Kaer Morhen. We’re in civilisation now.”

I looked around the large square. In addition to the grand houses were shops that probably sold the finest items coin could buy. “I feel a little out of place, to be honest.”

That just made Triss giggle as she hugged into my side, standing up to kiss my cheek. “Well, you’re here as my guest, and considering I’ve already mentioned you in a number of letters, I have a few friends who are very interested in meeting you.”

Heading inside, the first room we walked into was tastefully decorated, which wasn’t a real surprise, taking my hand as she took me on a tour. Leading me upstairs, she led me to a second bedroom and gestured. “Normally, this would have been your room, if you were just a friend. It’s spacious, with a lovely view of the square. The sun shines on it in the morning. A delightful way to wake up.” Leading me out of the room, I found myself standing next to her in what could only be her bedroom. “This is our bedroom, Ragnar, because there is no way on this green earth that you’re sleeping anywhere except next to me from now on. And I hope that sleep will only arrive after we’ve made love for half the night.”

“Every night?”

She smiled as she moved to stand in front of me. “Is that too much to ask?” she asked, her tone so sickly sweet, I couldn’t help chuckle.

“I’ll wear you out first.”

“Might have to put that to the test, Ragnar. I’ll admit you’ve left me feeling breathless more than once.”

“So… serious question, Triss. What am I doing here? I mean, apart from being with you, of course. I love that, but I’m not good at doing nothing.”

“I’m sure we’ll find you things to do, Ragnar… when you’re not with me, that is.”

“You know, Triss, I sometimes wonder if you’re mind isn’t as one track as mine is at times.”

She leaned up to kiss me again. “Ragnar, I’m not going to feel…”

I shushed her with a finger on her lips. “Not complaining. I love the fact you feel so free and open with me. You remind me of some very special women I used to know.”

Finally dumping my belongings on the ground, she led me downstairs around the rest of her house before suggesting we head out for dinner and a drink. We returned a few hours later feeling rather good about life, which only increased once I had her in our bed later. Without having to worry about anyone overhearing us, we made as much noise as we wanted. I lay back a couple of hours later, Triss fast asleep cuddled into my side, hoping that this would be my life going forward, at least for a little while.

Within the week, Triss told me one morning over breakfast to dress well as I would be visiting the royal palace that afternoon. I knew she had told many about my arrival, and had perhaps hinted at more than one of the gifts I possessed, and it appeared to have reached the ears of King Foltest himself, who apparently now wanted to meet me.

“You’ll also meet his other advisors, members of the royal council. I count many of them as good friends,” she added.

“So best behaviour?”

“I’m sure you’ve dealt with nobility and royalty before, Ragnar.”

“In a manner of speaking. I’m sure customs are different here than Skyrim.”

“I’ll guide you as best I can.”

We were transported to the royal palace by carriage, which was a real change from walking or riding a horse. The guards and servants were friendly with Triss, as much as she was in return, and I soon found myself introduced to anyone we passed by. Some seemed to already know when, inundated with a million questions I couldn’t possibly answer without sitting down and chatting to them for the next week. Triss just answered, “He’s a warrior and looks after me,” which seemed to satisfy their curiosity.

Before meeting with the king himself, I met with her fellow mages on the Council. Fercart of Cidaris was another survivor from Sodden Hill. After him, I was introduced to a rather attractive blonde by the name of Keira Metz. She was friendly from the moment we shook hands, asking questions as to who I was and how I’d come to arrive in Vizima. To say there was already a hint of jealousy when I stated I was with Triss amused me. In addition to the mages, I was introduced to a pair of dukes, who represented the nobility, and also to a man named John Natalis, who represented military matters on the Council. He took one look at me and suggested we speak later. I knew exactly why and agreed immediately.

Next was a private meeting with the king himself, with Triss at my side. I had met many impressive men in my life and Foltest earned himself a high spot on my list within a few minutes of speaking to him. His interest in me in return was apparent, asking many questions about where I was from, my history as a warrior, and also about the gifts I possessed. It didn’t surprise me when our conversation turned to matters of state that affected his kingdom.

“Perhaps we should….” Triss started to ask.

He held up a hand. “I merely wish to speak to Ragnar, Miss Merigold. No decision will be undertaken.”

I patted her hand resting on the arm of the chair. “And I’m willing to listen.” She glanced my way and grinned, though it was a tight one, no doubt hoping I didn’t find myself press-ganged into his army.

I didn’t, but he certainly tried to appeal to my better nature when speaking about the threats to his land, particularly from Nilfgaard to the south. Though Temeria was one of the strongest Northern Kingdoms, he still worried about the strength of Nilfgaard, even though they had taken a beating during the last war.

“I need warriors. Capable warriors. And I also look for anyone with unique gifts that could possibly be the difference between saving my kingdom and watching it dissolve. You are a stranger to these lands, Ragnar. You certainly owe no kingdom your loyalty. But Triss calls this city and country home, and if you were to do the same, as king, I can only hope that someone such as yourself may offer their services once the time comes.”

“I’ve been part of conflicts similar to those you describe, Your Majesty. And I’m certainly not someone to just stand aside and watch one country attack another for no reason other than that they covet power. I certainly don’t stand aside when innocents are being slaughtered. But the only proviso I have to that is I don’t know how long I will remain here. Triss knows I am an adventurer at heart. I can already admit I enjoy living here. Life is comfortable. But there’s that part of me that enjoys camping out under the stars, looking for the next place to explore.”

Whether that reply satisfied him or not, I was never sure, but the conversation moved on to other matters before Triss and I walked out, though she would be attending a Council meeting within the next few minutes. Waiting in the corridor outside, she asked, “If asked, would you fight for Temeria?” I gave her a look and she could read it easily. “I know you would fight for me, Ragnar. You don’t even need to say it.”

I ran a hand through my hair as I paced for a couple of minutes before I turned towards her. “Let’s see what the future brings. But if I end up considering Temeria my home… I might have to pick up a sword and shield in my efforts to protect her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback always appreciated, and you'll generally get a response, even if it's just to say 'Thanks!'
> 
> Any questions answered as long as it doesn't spoil things.
> 
> Or, if you enjoyed the chapte, you could always press that little 'kudos' button. I'm sure I'm not the only author who enjoys seeing that daily email saying how much kudos each of their story received. That shit is like crystal meth. Addictive!
> 
> Otherwise, thanks for reading so far.


	8. The Baron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before this starts, just a couple of things:
> 
> First, changing to updating twice a week (Sunday and Wednesday) due to so much of this story already being written. Aware this likely won't have many readers, so for those few who are, hope you enjoy the treat.
> 
> Second, this story is being uploaded elsewhere on the internet, including FF.net. Just FYI in case you see it elsewhere.

“Geralt?”

I had to wait a couple of minutes before there was a reply on the xenovox. “ _Morning, Ragnar. Where are you?”_

“Still at Keira’s house. I’ll explain everything when I get there. You still at Crow’s Perch?”

_“Aye. There’s a lot going on here. Baron is being an uncooperative bastard.”_

“Need my help?”

 _“Probably not,”_ he stated bluntly, “ _I was thinking about asking if you wanted to just go to Novigrad, but I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this here.”_

“I’ll be there by lunchtime.”

_“Okay, I’ll see you soon, Ragnar.”_

I didn’t lock up Keria’s home but at least shut the door and made it look like someone was living if they happened to look through the window, but I doubted either of us would ever return to it. I did think about just torching the place, but gave it some thought. It was in good condition and certainly suitable for a family, so headed to the nearby village, asking to speak to whoever was in charge. Pointed towards someone called the ‘village leader’, an elderly man likely given the position because he’d lived there all his life, I told him about the home now available. Asking where the witch had gone, I said she had left the region, assuring him dhe wasn’t dead nor captured by any witch hunters. He thanked me and said it would be used to house those who needed a warm place to rest.

The ride to Crow’s Perch took a little longer than expected, even when putting the horse through its paces. The fort was based on what looked like some sort of island as only a wooden bridge allowed access onto it. Stopped by a couple of henchmen, they asked why I was visiting Crow’s Perch.

“Did you allow a witcher to pass by recently?”

“Aye, what of it?”

“He’s a friend and we work together.”

“What’s his name?”

“Geralt of Rivia.” I took the xenovox from my pack. “If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Something magical. You want to ask him? Or do you want to let me through?”

The two shared a glance before looking at me. “Fine. You can pass, but we’ll be watching.”

“Fair enough. Don’t intend on getting on your bad side.”

The log wall around the fort seemed to offer some protection, but it was the fact there was only the one bridge across that meant the peasants were safe. Burn the bridge, and an army would never get across, not without having to rebuild it, and perhaps come under fire when doing so. Of course, it meant the peasants and those defending would be stuck too, but I had no doubt they would be prepared for some sort of siege.

Dismounting my horse, I walked through the village before climbing the hill towards the small fort itself. I received a few curious glances, and another henchman did stop and ask why I was there, repeating what I’d told the earlier henchman. Thankfully, he let me past after only a couple of questions, his opinion of Geralt already particularly low, though considering how many people disliked witchers on principle, it wasn’t a real surprise.

I found Roach tied up to a nearby fence, so tied my still nameless horse next to it and wandered inside. Asking where the baron was, I was pointed to a door, flanked by two small shields on which laid a symbol I didn’t recognise, but was perhaps the symbol of Velen. Knocking and opening the door, I walked in to see a heavy set man sat behind a desk, Geralt sat opposite him. Both looked at me.

“This him?” the other man asked. I assumed he was the one called ‘The Bloody Baron’.

“Yes, this is who I’ve mentioned,” Geralt replied as I walked over, “Ragnar, this is Phillip Strenger, otherwise known as the Bloody Baron.”

I leaned over and offered my hand. He looked at it a moment before grasping it. “Geralt has been telling me a little about you, Ragnar.” Releasing my hand, he gestured to the seat next to Geralt. Once I was sat down, he looked at me again. “Geralt tells me you’re assisting him with his enquiries into his missing daughter?”

“Aye. It’s a matter close to his heart. And as I now have nothing better to do… So what are you two discussing?”

The baron gestured at Geralt. “We were just discussing what I need from Geralt in return for the information he requires from me. Tit for tat, as they say.”

“Sounds like blackmail.”

The baron shrugged. “If you want to call it that. His daughter is important to him. My family is important to me. Geralt can fill you in on the details. As you were not here, I’ll put it simply. Find my family, you get the information you need, you can move on. But, rest assured, while you are here, you are under my protection. Might not seem like much, but as you’ve been around the area, I’m sure you know that my word is law.”

“Aye, the peasants certainly seem terrified,” I muttered before turning to Geralt, “Okay, so what are we doing?”

“I’ll leave it to Geralt to explain whatever his plan is.” He leaned forward, no doubt trying to intimidate us with his large frame and his reputation for violence using it. “Find my family, witcher, and you will have the information you want.”

We stood up and walked out, heading straight for the door leading outside. Moving away from any of his henchmen, the first question he asked me was what happened with Keira. It took a little explaining, and he admitted that, if it had been him, he’d probably have put a sword through her gut. “She used you. I’m sure you know that already, too busy thinking with your cock rather than your brain.”

“And she changed her hair colour.”

He caught the laugh that was ready to escape. “So predictable.”

“Talked her out of doing something stupid, at least. Burned the notes she found. She’s waiting for us at Kaer Morhen. Probably the safest place for her.”

“I’m sure Vesemir is going to love her company, but… considering what else is going on around Velen and further north, you made the right choice. Anyway, I’m sure you would like to know what I’ve been up to. Most important detail is that Ciri was definitely here. The baron has at least told me of her arrival and I found evidence when searching the place. I’ll put it in words you’ll understand otherwise. Something is fucked up here, and it involved the baron and his family. I just don’t know what yet.”

“What are we doing?”

“I was going to head off to find a pellar. Wasn’t sure if you’d want to tag along or not as it isn’t a two-person operation.”

“Sometimes I get the feeling you just want rid of me, Geralt.”

“Only sometimes, Ragnar, generally when you’re thinking with what’s between your legs instead of your head. I could have warned you off about Keira but I figure it would have fallen on deaf ears anyway.”

I chuckled. “You’re right there. She wasn’t shy in coming forward.”

“I take it that wasn’t the first time?”

“Certainly not.”

“Triss didn’t mind?”

“She encouraged it. If there is someone I’ve always been a willing pawn for, it’s her.”

“Why aren’t you with her now? That’s what I don’t get.”

“After everything that happened after Loc Muinne, we agreed to spend some time apart. The entire affair was a debacle. She needed space to get her head right. I was willing to give it, as I knew what lay on the horizon anyway.”

“You’re telling me,” he muttered, “Honestly thought Temeria was safe with the way it played out.” He sighed. “Anyway, if you want to join me, you’re more than welcome. It’s the only lead I have so far.”

Mounting up, we headed out of Crow’s Perch and back towards Blackbough. As we rode, Geralt explained what he’d discovered about the baron and his family. He was a drunk. His wife and child had disappeared one evening. The daughter was clearly a devotee of the Eternal Fire. The wife seemed to have sought a talisman from the pellar, or at least that’s what he’d concluded. The baron had no idea why his wife had it.

As we didn’t know the exact location of his hut, we did have to ask around the village and we were eventually pointed in the right direction. Riding up the narrow path for around ten minutes led us to a small house deep in the woods, far away from prying eyes. We dismounted a few metres back as there was at least half a dozen men at the door, one of them pounding away, making all sorts of threats.

“Look like the baron’s men to you?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah. Wonder what they’re doing here? You think we should ask?”

“I think we should. Without weapons, at least to begin with.”

The six were used to pushing around peasant’s incapable of fighting back. They took a look between the pair of us and no doubt knew they’d have a fight on their hands, should we choose to unsheathe. The largest of the men, and I mean large as in fat, pushed way forward. If he thought he would intimidate us, he was mistaken. “What the fuck do you two want?”

“Speak to the pellar,” Geralt replied.

“Well, you can fuck off, he’s ours.”

“That’s not very polite,” I retorted with a grin.

He took a step towards me, and I just kept the grin on my face as he needed to look up. “You don’t fuck off now, you can join the corpse of the pellar later on.”

I sighed. “Geralt?”

“Got to admit, I’m not finding myself liking any of the baron’s men so far, Ragnar. We let those at the inn live. I’m not feeling so inclined today.”

I unsheathed my sword. “Good, because neither am I.”

They were not used to people fighting back. They were definitely not used to people going on the attack. The fat one went down as soon as he drew a weapon. The other five didn’t know whether to attack of defend. We put another two on the ground within a few seconds, leaving it three against two, but the three still alive knew their number was already up. Neither of us was willing to shown an ounce of mercy this time. Geralt had clearly not liked what he’ seen at Crow’s Perch, seeming to take a little joy in putting his sword through two of them, while I took the sixth and last.

“Fucking hell, if these were Temerian soldiers, no wonder we fucking lost,” I muttered.

“They’ve grown fat and lazy, used to pushing around those who can’t push back,” Geralt stated, as we started to drag the bodies out of the way, “I’m thinking Crow’s Perch might need to eventually be cleansed of the baron’s men.”

“What about the baron?”

“Honestly? While he no doubt earned his title, I won’t say I have a good feeling about him, but there’s definitely a long story. What I do know is that he isn’t exactly lying to me, but I’m not hearing the whole story either.”

With the bodies out of the way, the pellar opened his door and seemed to know who we were. In fact, I was left thinking he had been expecting us. I stood aside as I let Geralt talk to him. Half the time that was my job. Stand around, look intimidating, perhaps thrown a fist or two if someone didn’t co-operate.

The pellar talked in riddles, and I had no idea what he meant half the time, but Geralt was patient and understanding. What I did understand was the pellar had given the baron’s wife, Anna, the amulet that she must have dropped during her escape from Crow’s Perch. To help find her and her daughter, the pellar explained he would need to ask the spirits.

Heading outside, Geralt following him, I heard him exclaim something about Princess. Wandering outside myself, I heard him explain to Geralt that Princess was his pet goat, and that he needed the goat to augur and commune with the spirits. Geralt sighed and looked at me. “Wait here. I’ll find the goat. Pellar, anything you have to help bring her back?”

The pellar handed him a little bell, explaining he should ring it to attract her attention. Geralt headed off, muttering under his breath, leaving me alone with the pellar. As I figured Geralt would be a while, I did wonder what he knew. I swear the bastard could read my mind. “I know who you are, Dragonborn.”

“Should have known. How much do you know?”

“I know enough. Your fate has been entwined with the White Wolf ever since you arrived here. I know your story so far, but as for the story that will unfold, I cannot say.”

“I’d rather not know what fate has in store for me, though I always hope it will turn out okay.” I paused a few moments before asking, “Why did she need the amulet?”

The pellar looked off into the distance. “The pellar has rarely met a woman as full of sadness as her.”

“Do you know much about her story?”

He met my eyes and nodded. “I know enough to understand why she needed my help. As for the rest, I believe the baron can and eventually fill in the gaps. Though it will depend on how honest he chooses to be with you.”

Geralt returned a few minutes later with the goat, and he didn’t look happy, muttering something about a stupid goat and a big fucking stupid bear. Any question died in my mouth when he lifted a hand and his face suggested to simply not ask. The pellar was pleased to see his goat, though he asked for one more favour. He needed fresh blood. Geralt looked at me. “Your fucking turn,” he grumbled.

I figured the pellar would only need something like a hare or rabbit, and there were plenty of those scurrying around the forest. I didn’t think burning it would be a good idea, so used a frost spell. A couple of seconds at least slowed it down enough that I could grab its tail then I snapped its neck. If it wasn’t needed for the pellar’s augur, it would have made a decent meal.

What we learned from the pellar once he’d performed his ritual was something that left both of us rather stunned. Geralt has seen his fair share of shit over the years, but even he was left a little speechless by the revelation. Then he turned to me, stunned for fewer seconds than myself. “We’ll be dealing with a botchling, Ragnar. This is something well outside your knowledge nor will you know how to deal with it. I won’t be asking you to assist with this one.”

“Fair enough.”

“You must perform the Aymm Rhoin, White Wolf,” the pellar stated.

“The Ritual of Naming? That’s an elven custom.”

“Spirits have no race; they honour not its meaning. Win a spirit's favour, and the spirit shall aid you. Ask and it will answer. Seek, and it will show you the way.”

Thanking the pellar, we mounted up and began our journey back to Crow’s Perch. “So have you actually ever dealt with a botchling before?” I wondered.

He nodded. “I have. To be honest, I usually treat them like most monsters in that I’ll just killed them. Most of the time, anyone connected to it is already dead, and saving it otherwise is almost impossible. I know a story of one witcher who managed to change the botchling into what is called a lubberkin.”

“And the baron? The story we were told?”

“I’m sure I’m not the only one who wants a word with him. Or knock his block off.”

The rest of the ride took place in silence. I have no doubt Geralt mostly thought about dealing with the botchling. From the brief description he was willing to give me, it was something from the worst of nightmares. I could only wish him good luck whichever decision he chose. As for myself, the longer I stewed on what the pellar told me about Anna Strenger and what she had likely been through, the angrier I got.

Crow’s Perch eventually came into view, and with the sun starting to set, there was no missing the smoke billowing from a building, and the light of flames leaping into the sky. Geralt and I swapped a glance and kicked our horses into a gallop, yelling at the baron’s henchmen to get out of the way as we rode our horses through the village, peasants leaping out of the way, before we climbed the hill to find the barn and stables up in flames.

Leaping off our mounts, he ran straight for the barn while I went looking for the baron. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he as likely responsible. I found the baron mouthing off at his men, hurling abuse and threatening all manner of punishments for imagined gripes. He took a swig from the bottle he was holding, so it distracted him enough that I could grab him by the collar and drag him away from the man he was threatening.

“What the fuck are you doing? Who the fuck do you think you are?” he growled.

“My friends call me Ragnar. You can call me the Dragonborn. Want to see what he’s capable of?”

He staggered until he tried to stand nose to nose with me. He was a big bastard, but I still had an inch or two. “I don’t think you have the guts to do a fucking thing. Not with my men around me.”

“I don’t think they’re going to lift a finger right now. So, want to know what we learned from the pellar? Sounds like you’re a wife beating piece of shit.” He took a swing at me. I saw it coming before he even pulled his arm back, so I ducked and stepped to the side. “We know that your wife suffered a miscarriage. While it would be considered tragic, I do wonder if she miscarried before or after you beat the shit out of her?”

“What the fuck do you think you’re accusing me of? What right do you have to stand there and…”

“Save it, Strenger. I have no doubt you’ve been beating your wife for years. Men like you are pussies. Act all tough but take it out on someone they claim to love and cherish. No wonder they fucking ran. I just wonder if you beat your daughter as well.”

He saw red at that accusation, hurling the bottle at me, which I just managed to duck, before he charged at me. Dropping my shoulder just enough that he glanced off me and stumbled, I took all my weapons off and gestured for him to take another swing. “Come on, big boy. Let’s see how you go against someone who can throw a punch back.”

“Fuckin’ wanker. You have no idea what I’m capable of. Who I am.”

“What I see is a pathetic, needle dicked little man.”

I was doing it on purpose, of course. Get him angry and I’d drop him quickly. His swings were so wild, I could easily step out of the way. It wore him out quickly, considering how drunk he was, so that all it took was a couple of good hits to eventually put him on the ground. On his back, I looked around at his henchman, eyes eventually falling on his second in command. “We going to have a problem?”

“If you hadn’t done it, one of us would have done it eventually. Think you need another conversation with him.”

I managed to drag him over towards a water trough and slammed his head down into it. “You need to sober up, then we’re going to have another nice little chat. Me, you and the witcher. And, trust me on this, you start telling us porky pies again, I’m going to start using my fists again.” I grabbed his collar and dragged him close so our noses touched. “You understand me now?”

“Okay, okay. Just let me go,” he groaned.

I dropped him to the ground and stepped away, glancing to see Geralt was already out the barn. It was going to burn to the ground, but I noticed he had at least saved the horses, while it looked like he’d also saved one or two men. He wandered over and looked at the baron. “We need to talk. Now.”

Lifting him up, we managed to drag him into the house and eventually into his office, dumping him into his chair as I poured Geralt and I a drink. The baron asked for one but the glare I returned caused him to look away. Handing a cup to Geralt, I remained standing between the two as Geralt wasted no time making his first accusation.

“You beat them.”

“I never laid a finger on Tamara.”

“But Anna?”

He looked at me for a moment before nodding. “That's another story. She always knew how to spark my ire.”

“How? I know women can poke and prod, but from what we’ve heard… the fact she miscarried would suggest…”

“Twenty years we've known each other. She's seen me drunk and sober, she was there to greet me when I returned the victor, she was there to patch me up in defeat. Like no other, she knew where to press, where to pinch, so it would hurt.”

“So to feel better about yourself, you pushed her round a little? Maybe a little slap every now and then?” I asked, not hiding the fact I thought he was pathetic for doing so. “And you expect us to believe you never touched your daughter?”

That provoked a reaction, anger blazing in his eyes. Better than the pathetic excuse of a man he was sitting sorry for himself, at least. “You're free to believe whatever you wish, but she was always the apple of my eye. She had the run of the place, ask anyone. She'd ride the horses, hunt with the men, at times join them on their rounds. And they'd send for her when I flew into a rage, for only she could calm me.”

I’ll admit I believed him about that. But there was no doubt the daughter had fled in support of her mother, particularly if she had been witness to what had happened over the years, and gods forbidding, if she’d been witness to the miscarriage itself. Considering what Geralt had found at the small shrine downstairs, the daughter had likely been heavily involved in the planning of the escape. And I had no doubt they would have received outside help to achieve it.

“You knew they ran away. You’ve wasted our time with all this running around.” Geralt leaned forward. “I want the truth this time, Strenger, not the bullshit story you sold us last time.”

The baron looked between the pair of us a couple of times again before he sighed. “I'd been soakin' myself for three days straight. Anna came to me, said they were leaving. I begged them to stay. She refused to hear it. I tried to stop her. She wriggled like an eel, we struggled... she fell. Last blasted thing I remember. Woke up in the morn, breeches heavy with me own piss, a large bump on my head. Sadly, they were gone. Know what that's like, witcher? No, how the fuck could you? I was left with nothing! Nothing! Only the bottle...”

Geralt and I shared a glance. This was when we got to the crux of the matter. I took a seat next to Geralt. My looming presence was no longer needed. I did pity the man having to tell us what he would share next. We could be hard-hearted bastards when we wanted to be, but just thinking about losing a child, let alone actually going through the experience…

We didn’t even need to ask. A look into our eyes and he nodded. “Next... it only got worse. I awoke at sunset, not knowin' how many days had passed. Thought it was all a ploughin' drunken nightmare. An' then I went to the bedchamber, but Anna was not there. Instead... there was blood, everywhere. I knew. She'd miscarried. My breath short, my throat locked, I neared the bed...and saw it. It lay there. A tiny thing, defenceless... on bloodied sheets... dead. And it was my doing.”

Geralt nodded. “Ragnar, time for you to leave. I need to explain to the baron what’s happened, and then we need to discuss the next steps. What I need you to do is go around the village and warn them. No-one outside after dark, a line of salt at their door. Baron, your henchmen should also make themselves scarce during this. Ragnar, when you’re done, you should remain in here. When the time is right, I’ll come and grab you.”

“I’ll follow your lead regarding this, Geralt. No problem.”

“Ragnar, send my sergeant in here. I’ll give him orders. Whatever you command is the same as if I was doing it.” I met his eyes and nodded. He wasn’t exactly sober, but he was with it enough to know things were now spiralling, and that despite what he’d done, we were still trying to help him.

I spent the next hour or so going from door to door in the village. Each time, I think they were relieved to see me instead of one of the baron’s henchmen. I received few questions when telling them to do what Geralt had suggested, obviously aware something was up. Doors were shut and locked, window shutters pulled closed. Walking back through the village after visiting the last house, it was practically deserted, the sergeant speaking to his own men, leading them back up the hill.

The weather had well and truly closed in by the time I walked back into the fort. The baron was nowhere to be found, finding Geralt in the baron’s office, and he told me that what he needed to do would happen at midnight, and that I should just relax and get some sleep. I ended up heading downstairs to drink with some of the baron’s henchmen and learned one or two things. All of them had fought for Temeria. Nearly all of them had lost loves ones and their homes. There was a real air of bitterness among most of them. They hated Nilfgaard with every fibre of their being, but knew that they were also now effectively working for them.

“What about you?” one of them asked.

“I was stationed near White Orchard. Black Ones smashed us just as badly there as everywhere else. From what I’ve learned, the entire front just collapsed.”

“It was a fuckin’ debacle. Never been sent packing as badly as we were. It was chaos,” another grumbled.

“Lucky to survive. Many of us here met the baron during the retreat,” the sergeant explained further, “Finding the previous lord had retreated, we took position here as it was rather defensible. Black Ones eventually arrived, Didn’t want to fight us, offered to parley. Baron… agreed terms. Now we own this region of Velen and give them a tithe. They leave us alone, we can do what we want otherwise.”

I could have suggested the local peasantry was living more in fear of the baron and his men rather than the Black Ones, but it would have just ended in an argument or a fight, and all I wanted to do was move on as quickly as possible. Most of the men eventually headed off to bed, so I ended up in the baron’s office, reading a book by the fire, waiting for them to finish whatever they were up to.

It would have been well after midnight when the baron walked in, deathly pale. He barely looked in my direction, walking straight for the drinks cabinet. “Where’s Geralt?” He didn’t reply as he took a seat at his desk and practically drank from the bottle. Leaning onto his desk, I made sure he finally met my eyes. “Where’s Geralt?”

“Downstairs. Outside. With… with…”

He didn’t really have to say. It was easy to figure out what they’d been up to, so now I just wondered what Geralt intended. I figured he was going through with the ritual to turn the botchling into a lubberkin, so could only hope it would work. Despite his warnings, I put on my armour and weapons, heading outside into the driving rain and howling wind, lightning streaking across the sky. Perfect weather for what he was doing.

I found him meditating by what looked like a recently covered grave. He heard me coming, of course. “Told you to stay inside,” he murmured.

“Baron isn’t in a good way. Thought I should check up on you.”

“I’m fine, Ragnar. Keep an eye on him though. He’s a bastard but even I can understand what we did tonight wasn’t easy. Whether he was actually responsible or not, we’ll never know, but he lost a child just like Anna did.” He sighed. “There’s no doubt he loves Tamara, and he would have loved this child just as much.”

“How long until the ritual?”

“Just been preparing myself for it. You’d best head inside. I’ll take care of this for now. Once I have need of your assistance again, I’ll come get you.”

I headed inside and straight to bed as it had been a rather long day. Geralt did wake me in the morning, a simple shake had me alert immediately, suggesting I grab a quick breakfast before we talked. I broke bread with his men again before we headed outside. He’d obviously let me sleep longer than I expected as he had already talked to the baron about what he’d discovered. The ritual had worked, at least, and we had a couple of leads.

“I’m heading to Crookback Bog, Ragnar. It’s the second time it’s been mentioned and I’m convinced Ciri has at least been there. Doubt she’s still there, but maybe we’ll find her next movements.”

“And where am I headed?”

“Oxenfurt.”

* * *

_A few years earlier…_

“Another tankard, innkeep.”

He pushed forward another, throwing him a coin in thanks. I’d been in Oxenfurt for a couple of days. I didn’t walk the Path like a witcher. Didn’t take care of monster contracts as most were beyond my understanding and skill. But people still needed help from time to time, a bit of muscle to help resolve a problem. If they needed fists to do the talking, or a sword if things were truly out of hand, I would help out.

I was in Oxenfurt after taking care of a problem of some idiots hassling a few students that went beyond just a little teasing. There was stalking and harassment, and I didn’t appreciate it when people made others live in fear. Surprisingly, they thought talking big in return to me, trying to intimidate, would work. It failed miserably, of course, and I laid the four of out with fists. And I made sure it was a public spectacle so that they could live with the embarrassment. There were the usual empty threats made when they hauled their bruised and bloodied bodies up off the ground, but I’d heard similar hot air from others. They’d barely show their faces in town again.

“Vodka, innkeep,” stated a feminine voice approaching the bar, glancing to see a redheaded woman approach the bar. She looked young, no doubt a student of the nearby academy. Redhead, green eyes, pale complexion, not particularly tall. Right away, thought she was gorgeous.

Necking the cup, she pushed it forward and asked for another one before she returned my glance and grinned. “Ragnar Dragonborn?”

“Aye. How do you know who I am?”

“Please, most of Oxenfurt Academy now knows who you are on appearance alone thanks to the way you handled those creeps. I knew one of the girls who asked for your help. She’s still swooning about the way you handled them all, then the fact you didn’t want to take all the coin they offered.”

“Just a job. Earned a few coin simply for doing the right thing.” I took a sip of my tankard before turning towards her. “You know my name. May I have yours?”

“Shani.”

“And do you always approach random strangers in bars, Shani?”

“Can I admit something?”

“Sure.”

“I was one of the many watching how you handled those four creeps. Trust me, I’m just the first to get beside you at this bar.” I turned and relaxed back against the bar and could see the number of women outnumbered that of men, and that was highly unusual in any establishment. “Many of them are probably glaring daggers at my back right now.”

“I take it you’re still studying?”

“I am. I aim on becoming a doctor.” That made me smile, which made her grin broaden. “Glad you approve.”

“I always wonder if I’m in the minority when I say I appreciate intelligence. And becoming a doctor is a noble profession.”

“And you are… a mercenary?”

“I’m the Dragonborn.”

The confident tone seemed to impress her for some reason. “And what is the Dragonborn? I’ve heard stories of the poet Dandelion but…” I groaned, which made her giggle. It was a sound that sent a dagger into the heart immediately. “You don’t like his work? I mean, from everything he’s written about you, the dashing hero saving the day, never mind the, um, er…”

“Ladies of my affection?”

That made her giggle again. “Yes, he does suggest you have enjoyed time with a number of lovers. Anyone… serious?”

“Aye, but they are understanding of the circumstances we find ourselves in.”

“Do you have anyone special in Oxenfurt?”

“Not at the moment.”

“It’s a bit noisy in here. Would you care for a walk? The view is quite lovely at this time of night by the harbour leading towards the bridge.”

“Sure. Could use some fresh air anyway.”

Grabbing our coats, we headed out as the sun was just about set. There was a chill in the air as always when by the water, Shani shivering and she was quickly leaning into me, and seemed pleased when I wrapped an arm around her. We strolled towards the river, chatting about everything and nothing more all at once, showing far more interest in her life as I had a feeling she already knew quite a bit about me anyway. The harbour was always busy, so we took the path the higher path away from the actual docks, eventually ending up on the road that led towards the bridge leading back onto the mainland. Stopping halfway across, we leaned against the edge, as the view of the harbour and much of Oxenfurt was fantastic. Standing on the other side, we could just about see all of Oxenfurt Academy.

We must have spent a couple of hours just talking about anything that came to mind before finally heading back. I thought we’d go towards the academy, but Shani directed us back towards the centre of town, where it turned out she resided off campus, sharing a house with a couple of other students.

Opening her front door, I stood on the threshold as she turned back towards me. I let her make the first move as she stepped forward me, standing on tip toes, her intention obvious. It was quite the first kiss, feeling her body mould against mine. But that’s all it was at first, a kiss. I didn’t mind.

“I’d invite you inside, Ragnar, but… my housemates…”

“Sometimes it’s best not to rush these things.”

“Are you staying in Oxenfurt?”

“I am now.” My response actually made her blush as I added, “I booked the room in the tavern for a couple of weeks. I do drift from place to place, but don’t like rushing. I’m sure I’ll find more work while I’m here.”

“Would you like to see me again?”

“Though I’d like to see you tomorrow morning, anytime tomorrow would be grand.”

“I’m free after lunchtime. I can meet you…”

“I’ll come the academy and meet you. I’m sure I’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”

“Swooning, Ragnar. Everyone is going to know who you are by now.”

I leaned down to her ear. “Well, it’ll just make them jealous when you leave on my arm then,” I whispered.

I kissed her again, gently pressing her against the open door, feeling her fingers dig into my coat and shirt, and when she whimpered slightly, from a kiss, a bloody good one mind, I figured she was tempted to invite me upstairs. Breaking off and stepping back, there was more colour to her cheeks than before, and a look in her eyes which I certainly liked.

“I should probably go,” I said.

“Stay!” she blurted out, “Just… we can’t have sex.” I couldn’t help chuckle at how blunt she was. “Trust me, I want…”

“Are you sure? You won’t get twenty questions tomorrow morning? I don’t care about the tavern.”

She grabbed my hand, shut the door with her other one, and led me upstairs to her bedroom. It was sparsely furnished, but the bed was big enough for two, which was what mattered. Making out while undressing probably wasn’t the best idea, and when she felt my erection press into her once I was only in my underwear, she couldn’t help giggle again. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“If it didn’t happen, you would have every right to kick me out for not reacting in such a manner.”

“Sure you can handle just sleeping next to me?”

“I can handle it. That’s not to say I wouldn’t want to do a hell of a lot more.”

Her bed was in the corner of the room, against the wall, so I slid into bed first before she followed me, immediately turning towards me as we resumed making out. How we didn’t end up making love, or just fooling around that night, I’m still not sure. But somehow, we managed to resist… with great difficulty. Spooned against me a little later, she started giggling again as it took quite a while for me to relax and for something to finally go flaccid.

“Sorry,” she whispered again.

“I’m lying next to a gorgeous redhead who is wearing her rather delicate underthings. I’m definitely not going to complain.”

“You’re here for a couple of weeks?”

“Aye, that was the plan.”

“Going to make the most of this then. From tomorrow. I need sleep right now.”

I had a feeling I was going to be in for a great fortnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcomed and appreciated, particularly if you do read on both sites. I've added a question to the story there as left thinking pointless uploading on both sides.
> 
> Maybe you'd like to press that little kudos button if you enjoyed the chapter / story. Love that daily email saying people like my stuff.
> 
> I sound like a Youtuber... 'Please like the video and subscribe to my channel, press the bell to get notifications.'


	9. An Old Flame

I had no time for the Emperor of Nilfgaard, but I also had no time for Radovid of Redania either, nor the useless twats who seemed to make up a greater portion of his army. Approaching Oxenfurt, I passed by more of his soldiers the further north I travelled, and as I rode into the outskirts of the city, the number of refugees hoping for safe passage almost beggared belief.

I managed to get over the main crossing only thanks to the fact Geralt had given me a pass that promised safe conduct through Redanian territory, thanks to the Bloody Baron himself. Slight surprise, considering he worked for Nilfgaard more than anyone, but I guess he had plenty of friends in high places.

My first thought upon crossing the bridge into Oxenfurt itself was of Shani. It had been quite some time since I’d seen her. With the war, I had a feeling I wouldn’t find her in the city but still rode to the academy first. What I found saddened me, as soldiers now prowled it instead of students. I found a notice that said anyone trained in medicine would be sent to the front line to serve Redania, while anyone else was simply kicked out, the academy closed during hostilities.

What angered me, though, was the pile of books clearly getting ready to be burned. Considering everything I’d heard about Radovid, it didn’t surprise me. I would have done something about it but I wasn’t going to kill all his soldiers over a few books. Not yet anyway…

I knew Radovid was in Oxenfurt, on his ship at least. Although I was curious about the man, I wasn’t going to waste time looking at just his boat, hoping I might catch sight of him. Heading towards the centre of the city, I found very little had changed since my last visit, eventually stopping outside a tavern and heading inside for a bite to eat and a drink.

History often has a way of repeating itself and it did again this night. I was slowly making way through a second tankard when I felt a soft hand run down my arm, glancing to my left to see a red haired, green eyed woman looking at me, half-smiling, half on the verge of crying, so it seemed. All I did was turn towards, take her in my arms, and kiss her. Her arms went around the back of my neck. I think one or two may have even applauded, though the man behind the bar eventually cleared his throat. “Could just get a room if you want to carry on,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” Shani and I said together.

“One vodka, please,” I added, “With lemon.”

“You remember,” she stated softly.

“Hard to forget. Don’t know many who drink that.” Once she had the cup in hand, we clinked and took a sip before I led her toward a small table in the corner. Moving chairs so we could sit side by side, watching the crowd, her hand quickly found its way onto my thigh as I wrapped an arm around her in return. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m on furlough. As the war is currently on hiatus, the need for doctors and nurses has fallen. So I thought I’d head back to my old stomping ground. Shame what they’ve done to the academy. That’s why I’m here. What’s brought you back here?”

“I’m looking for someone. Currently working with Geralt.”

“Where is he?”

“Further south. We’re working on the same problem but it’s s two-pronged approach.”

“And your search included a visit to a tavern?” I gave her a look which made her giggle, before she cuddled into me. “Well, I’m glad you did. It’s been far too long since we last saw each other, Ragnar.”

“It’s been hectic for quite a while.”

“I’m sure I’m not the only one who misses you.” I gave her another look. “Oh please, you know I know. Did I ever make a fuss about it? No. All I know is that, whenever we were together, I knew I was the only one you were thinking about at the time.”

“Thought about you a hell of a lot when you’re not around too.”

“Have you booked a room here?”

“Not yet.”

She knocked back the drink and looked at me. “You should join me at mine then.”

That was an invitation if ever I heard one. Sculling my tankard, we stood up, put on our coats, and practically raced out of the tavern. Shani took my hand and led towards a relatively well-to-do area of Oxenfurt. I couldn’t help glance her way and she managed to look a little embarrassed. “Since I gained my doctorate, I have managed to squirrel away a little money. The house isn’t my own alone, I share ownership with an old friend.”

“Not judging. Glad you’re doing well in life considering what you must deal with at times.”

“True, but I don’t want to think about that right now.”

“You have plans, Shani?” She gave me a look I knew well. “Well, I’ve always enjoyed that look in your eyes that tells me I’m about to be in for quite the good time.”

Arriving at her front door, she took the keys from her small bag, opened the door and called out for her housemate. There was no response, so after closing and locking the door, I found myself dragged upstairs. I had about five seconds to take in the tasteful decoration before she was all over me, her hands eager to get my armour off as we kissed, and while I always enjoyed the nurses uniform she wore, I much preferred her out of it.

Once I had her dress off, I had to stop and just appreciate the tasteful lingerie, all white, plus the white stockings and garter she wore as well. Definitely turned me on even more, as she lowered my underwear to reveal my cock. “I take that as a sign you approve,” she whispered, getting on her knees before me, grabbing the base and running her tongue up my shaft, “I remember how much you appreciated my talents, Ragnar.”

I ran fingers through her hair, which earned me one of those gorgeous smiles she constantly wore for me, before I watched my cock slowly but surely disappeared inside her mouth. I loved watching women go down on me, and she knew to keep looking up, her green eyes sparkling like the finest emeralds. I’d always held deep affection for her since our first night together. In many ways, we loved each other, but it was on the basis we knew it would unlikely ever be permanent, but whenever we were in the same place, we would get together and enjoy the intimacy our relationship had.

“Gods,” I groaned, which made her giggle again.

“Methinks he likes it,” she said.

“I’m going to blow like Red Mountain in a couple of minutes.” She looked at me, a little confused. “Something from where I’m from. Just… keep going. Please!”

She did, her enthusiasm for pleasing me infectious. She’d never been shy in her desire for me as much as mine for her in return. Little wonder I was already been blown probably no more than an hour after reuniting. I warned her I was about to cum but I could see the smile in her eyes and knew what she wanted. Gently grabbing the back of her head, I groaned against as I felt myself unload, the immediately feeling of weakening knees and the need to catch my breath. She continued to suck me until I was finished and obviously needed a moment or two.

“Still yummy as ever, Ragnar.”

“By Talos, Shani, I forgot how good you were at that.”

She stood up and I kissed her, which always surprised her, considering there was the lingering taste. Never bothered me as most women I was intimate with did it either constantly or at least from time to time. “Do you like what I’m wearing?” she asked, taking a step back and posing.

“Love it. Always loved you in uniform.” She laughed out loud as I pulled her close and kissed her again. Hugging her to my body, she broke the kiss and rested her head against my chest, feeling her fingers run up and down my back. “Bloody good to see you, Shani,” I whispered.

“How long are you here?”

“Only to find the person I need. Then I’ll need to head back with the report. Not sure when I’ll be here again.” I lifted her chin with a finger. “But I certainly have a good reason to head back whenever I can.”

No surprise Shani ended up on her back a few minutes later, only her panties removed as she wanted only one thing from me. My mouth on her pussy. I was more than willing to oblige what she wanted, and as turned on as she was, revelling in her taste as I was, her first orgasm didn’t take too long. Once she had that, everything except her stockings were removed as I focused on the rest of her body for a little while, with my mouth at least, my fingers continuing to tease her, feeling her body writhe at everything I was doing.

But my head ended up back between her legs after all that, and I lost track of how long I spent eating her out, and I rarely counting the orgasms a woman had. I only cared that she did have them. Occasionally, for whatever reason, it didn’t happen, but with those lovers I connected with above all else, I loved nothing more than making and watching them cum.

“Ragnar,” she breathed, feeling her fingers grip my hair, holding my head in place, practically rubbing her pussy across my face, “One more, then we’ll make love.”

Shani always said we made love. She enjoyed one last orgasm before whispering for me to stop, kissing up her body before our eyes met, her face breaking out into a wide grin as she leaned up to kiss me. We made out as I gave her a few minutes to catch her breath and calm down before I felt a soft hand wrap around my cock, guiding it towards her pussy. Sliding inside, we had to break the kiss as we both released a low moan.

“God, that’s good, Ragnar,” she whispered as I slowly buried my cock, “Forgot how thick you were!”

“Always enjoy hearing a compliment.”

She laughed. “How about ‘Best cock in Oxenfurt!’”

“Just Oxenfurt?”

She laughed again. “I keep going, Ragnar, your ego won’t fit through the door when you leave.” The smile disappeared as she leaned up to kiss me. “I haven’t been with anyone else, Ragnar. It makes moments like this even better.”

“Seriously? Shani, you…”

She put a finger to my lips. “Yes, I’m serious. So, what I want to do is make love until we’re both too worn out to continue. Then we’ll go to sleep, and part tomorrow with more good memories to share.”

And that’s what we did. The sex was phenomenal as always. Since our first time we’d made love, the spark we shared only ever increased with each time we were together. She was a sexual dynamo, to be honest. She was flexible, had stamina, and an open mind. We laughed and had a lot of fun, willing to try new things, but we always enjoyed the old reliable positions that always felt the best and would result in both of us enjoying more than one orgasm. As with most lovers, I loved it when she rode me, and she had always loved riding me, particularly when my hands caressed her body at the same time. We learned early on she loved getting down on her knees, her head on a pillow, as I’d fuck her hard from behind. She had a slightly submissive streak we occasionally explored, but nothing beyond perhaps tying her up and teasing her for a while before giving her quite the pounding that left her begging for more while also laughing she’d be walking funny for days afterwards.

But each and every time, it would end with Shani spooned against me, wrapped in my arms, as we’d talk for what seemed like hours about nothing at all. From that first night we’d shared, when all we’d done is lie together, it had always felt so comfortable, so natural to be together. Little wonder that we loved each other immensely, but were realistic at the same time. Our lives were markedly different.

“No doubt my housemate might make a comment or two tomorrow morning at breakfast,” she whispered with a giggle, “I’m fairly sure she would have come home while we were making love, and we were not exactly being quiet.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“She’ll feign jealousy once she gets a look at you. But she also knows all about you anyway.”

I dressed ready for the day the next morning, Shani throwing on a simple gown as we headed downstairs to the kitchen, when I was introduced to her housemate, a rather attractive brunette, who was rather friendly with more than one not so subtle remark about my apparent prowess from the previous night. Shani simply smiled, leaning into my arm. “I won’t be vulgar, but I think I’ve suggested enough, Elora.”

“Heard enough at times last night, Shani.”

“Stop teasing!” Shani giggled.

I ate my breakfast mostly in silence before announcing I had best depart as I needed to find the missing person before returning south. Shani led me to the door, where we shared a final embrace and one hell of a last kiss. “Will you be in the area again soon?”

“I don’t know. But, as I said, I definitely have a good reason to return swiftly.”

“Maybe I’ll wear different coloured lingerie next time.” My eyes must have definitely lit up, as she giggled again. “It was good to see you, Ragnar.”

“You too, Shani.”

We embraced again, neither of us particularly wanting to let go, before I did and stepped through the threshold. She stood in the doorway, waving, before I disappeared from view. Once she had, I put her out of my mind, at least for the time being. I didn’t anticipate any trouble regarding Tamara Strenger. I had the address, so it was simply a case of if she would be willing to talk to me. She’d put two and two together rather quickly.

The house was by the harbour. Knocking on the door, it was opened by a man I obviously didn’t recognise, so I wasted no time getting to the point. “I’m Ragnar Dragonborn. I’m here to speak to Tamara Strenger.”

He was immediately cautious. “Who sent you?”

“Your brother told us about her. I need to speak to her about her father.”

Despite the fact I towered over him, and was obviously armed, he puffed himself up. “You don’t mean to cause trouble, do you?”

“I only wish to talk to Tamara, hear her side of the story. I won’t force anyone to do anything they don’t want.”

He nodded and stepped aside. “Come in. Please, take a seat. I’ll fetch her for you.”

Tamara arrived a few minutes later. She took one look at me and figured out who had sent me, at least. Gesturing to the available seat, she at least sat down nearby so we could talk. “You're looking for me. And who might you be? My father send you?”

“Aye, he did.”

“Who are you?”

“Ragnar Dragonborn.”

There was a slight smirk. “Heard about you. Why are you working for my father? Didn’t think you’d work for someone like… him.”

“He has information I need and he asked me to find you. Considering what my companion found trying to find you himself, I’m just happy to see you alive and well.”

“I'm quite alive and extraordinarily well, Ragnar Dragonborn. Better than I've ever been in this rotten life of mine. And now that you've seen me, I bid you farewell.”

She started to stand up. “Wait, there is something…”

“What could you possibly want to know?” A look must have passed my face as she slowly sat back in the chair. “I guess you know then…”

“I’m sorry, Tamara. What you and your mother have been through, no-one deserved it. But I need to hear your side. All I’ve heard is his.”

She sighed, before standing up and approaching a nearby cabinet, returning with a bottle and a couple of cups. She poured each of us a couple of fingers worth before she sighed again. “I can’t remember my father as a good man, Ragnar. Not after everything that’s happened recently. Not after what he did to my mother. He’s never raised a hand in anger against me. Barely ever raised his voice. Compare that to my mother, I wonder when they last admitted to loving each other. All I remember is drink, shouting, and violence.”

“Your mother, Tamara. I know what happened… but we don’t know where she is.”

“Worst night of my life,” she whispered, before knocking back her cup, pouring herself another one, “Stuff of nightmares. I still see it now when I close my eyes.” She shuddered. I would have rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, but I doubt she’d have appreciated that. I was there on behalf of her father. “Mother claims she never wanted the child. I think she was going a little mad while it happened. She’d been rather content before that night.”

“That night? What happened?”

“I’m not sure what started. Father was drunk as usual… well, perhaps worse than normal. Something set it off and the shouting was more intense than normal. Mother then said we would be leaving. She’d had enough. That’s when it got physical. Again, he never laid a hand on me. But mother… she fell and…” She shuddered again. This time I did take her hand and squeeze. She glared at me for a moment before seeming to understand, nodding her thanks as I removed it. “I don’t know where mother is. All I remember is that this beast appeared from out of the woods as we were making our way to meet our contact… It grabbed mother and disappeared before I could even think about screaming. I would have ridden after her, but the horses were spooked, and there was nothing I could do alone.”

“Shit…”

“That’s my story, Ragnar. Nineteen years of torment and torture, watching my mother just… endure. But she endured enough. We were meant to be safe here. Now… Now I will find my mother and make sure she is safe and sound.”

“How?”

She gestured at the candles around the room. “I have some new friends. Heard of the Church of the Eternal Fire?”

“In passing.” I could have mentioned the fact that they along with Radovid was burning plenty of people at the stake.

“A priest helped me contact the Redanian witch hunters. Righteous, brave men. They'll help me.”

“What should I tell your father?”

“I’m not going back. And I will fight anyone who tries to drag me back. I’d rather die.”

“I’m not here to do that, Tamara. I will return to him, let him know you’re alive, and that’s it.”

“Thanks. At least there are still some with a modicum of decency and honour that hover in his presence.”

“I don’t plan on being in it any longer than I need.” I stood up. “Good luck, Tamara. And I mean that.”

She stood up and escorted me to the door. “Be careful of my father, Ragnar. He is not a good man.”

I was tempted to head straight back to Shani’s, but we had ended on a good note, and I knew I’d see her sooner rather than later. Instead, I figured I’d just head straight back to Crow’s Perch and let the baron know about his daughter. If he thought I was going to drag her back to him, or at least try and convince her, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

It was a long ride from Oxenfurt to Crow’s Perch, arriving only after night had fallen. I found the baron half-drunk already in his office, so his attitude pissed me off as soon as I walked in the door and he started barking at me. He hadn’t stood up, so when I strode over and loomed over him, he grew quiet before I sat opposite him.

“Your daughter is alive,” I stated.

“Where is she?”

“She’s in Oxenfurt at the moment, but she will be leaving with people from the Eternal Fire. She had no desire to return here.”

“You were supposed to bring her back!”

I stood up and leaned forward on the desk. “Listen very carefully, Strenger. You might get used to intimidating a bunch of scared peasants, and throw the fear of the gods into your men, but if you really want to see how I deal with bullies, we can head downstairs and I can put you on your arse again, maybe give you another black eye.”

He glared at me for a few seconds before he looked away. When he sighed, I knew the fight was out of him. “It’s all my fault,” he eventually muttered.

“Look, Phillip,” the use of his first name earned a surprised glance, “I know you have this ideal of what your relationship was with your daughter. Unfortunately, she doesn’t remember it the same way. She spent most of her life scared of you, and that fear has developed into… I think it was hatred for a while, but now it’s indifference. All she wants to do is forget it all. Everything that happened, but most importantly you. And I think that’s a truth you need to hear and understand. It is your actions alone that drove her away.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I know you know that, but you need to hear it. I know you love your daughter. I hear it in your voice every time you speak of her. But that love is just not returned any longer.”

For a moment, I honestly thought he was going to burst into tears on me, his body just falling back into the chair as the air went out of him, as if I’d slammed a fist into his solar plexus. A very small part of me did feel pity for him, because only now was he starting to realise that he was very much alone in the world. The men outside owed him allegiance as long as he continued to pay them. Eventually, fear would no longer work. They would know about his personal problems, and think him weak or soft.

“Have you heard from Geralt?”

“I will head in his direction tomorrow morning after resting up here. I have no idea if he’s found your wife or not. No doubt he or we will return with news eventually. Your daughter could at least fill in some details we didn’t know. Something grabbed her, and in my mind, it has something to do with Crookback Bog. I just don’t know what yet. I’m sure Geralt is in the process of figuring it out.”

We sat in silence again, the baron continuing to sip at the bottle. I wandered over to the cabinet and grabbed myself something, though I at least poured liquor into a cup and sipped at it.

“I truly love her, you know,” he eventually murmured, “We had our problems. All marriages do. But I loved her. I thought Dea…”

“Dea?”

“My second daughter. I thought she might have helped save our marriage. For a brief window, her being with child brought us closer together. I won’t say we were happy but… there was peace.”

“I’m surprised she was pregnant. I’ll be honest, I’m assuming you are both… middle aged.”

He gave me a look and then a brief smirk appeared. “Life in the old dog yet, Ragnar. And Anna… I don’t believe in miracles, but when she told me, it was perhaps the first time she’d ever seen me cry. I had such hope, Ragnar, such hope for the future. But the drink… I just can’t…”

“You’re an addict.” He nodded sadly. “You’re not the first soldier, won’t be the last. Seen plenty of it myself over the years.” I finished my cup and stood up. “You should get some sleep, Phillip. Sitting here drinking all night won’t solve your problems.” I walked around the desk and held out my hand. He looked at it and the bottle before he sighed and handed over the bottle. “Got anything in your room?”

“No,” he replied quietly.

“Sure?”

He glanced at me but finally relented and nodded. “I usually pass out in here then just stagger to bed if I actually wake up.”

I stepped back and gestured with my head. “Come on, I’ll make sure you’re actually in your bedroom first.”

“No need to treat me…” he trailed off and realised I was actually just trying to do a decent thing. Did he deserve it? Not really. I didn’t think he was completely evil. Rarely are events black and white, merely different shades of grey. He had treated his wife and child like shit but he had clearly led a chaotic life, seen the worst of humanity, and it had merely rubbed off on him in an awful way.

Heading to the room I had for the evening, the same room Ciri had used during her stay, I enjoyed a peaceful night’s rest. Breaking bread with the baron’s men the next morning, some were nursing a sore head as usual, none seemingly aware of my ride to and from Oxenfurt, and I think even if they were, I honestly don’t think they really cared.

Returning to the bedroom, I pulled out my xenovox and hoped it worked. “Geralt?”

He replied quicker than I expected. “ _Morning, Ragnar. Are you well?”_

“As can be expected. Update on Tamara. I found her in Oxenfurt. She’s safe and sound. Now with people from the Eternal Fire. Won’t be returning home.”

_“No surprise there, at least regarding returning home. How did the baron take it?”_

“How you’d expect. Full of sorrow and self-pity. You need my help there or…?”

“ _Honestly, yes. I’ll explain more when you get here, but… I’ve got a bad feeling, Ragnar. And when I’ve got a bad feeling, we both know it’s actually worse than it seems.”_

“I’ll prepare and be on the road in half an hour. Are there signs for Crookback Bog on the way?”

_“Yes. Head towards Lindenvale. The road from there will take you to the start of the Trail of Treats. Follow that and you’ll end up where I’m based for the moment. It’s been… interesting…”_

I didn’t have much to pack, simply making sure I had a little food before I headed outside, grabbed my horse, and once I was pointed in the right direction on the main road heading east, I quickly had my horse in a canter, aware it was going to be a long ride, and I’d probably end up camping. In the end, I decided on stopping in Lindenvale, once I’d asked what was between there and Crookback Bog, being warned there was only one other village closer but it didn’t have a tavern.

Heading into the forest early next morning, I made sure I had my wits about me. With Geralt likely having already passed through, I would assume any monsters near the road would have already been dealt with, but there were still the animals that could even cause me a spot of bother. Arriving at the crest of a hill by lunchtime, I was afforded a spectacular view of the surrounding countryside.

Finding the Trail of Treats wasn’t particularly difficult. There was a wooden statue I couldn’t identify, but the trees had biscuits and sweets attached to them, so I could see why those struggling for food would end up following the trail. It felt like I was following a path that led into the heart of the swamp, eventually arriving in a clearing where there were a few buildings, a whole lot of children running about, and Geralt sitting on a log, leaning back against the wall of one building. He noticed me and waved me over.

Shaking hands, I took a seat next to him. “Who are they?”

“War orphans mostly. Not sure how long I’ve sat here watching them.” Despite his demeanour at times, I knew Geralt adored children. He showed more patience with them than anyone. Always kind and gentle. Compared to how he would treat certain other people, it was rather amusing at times. We sat side by side, watching them play some sort of game before he finally asked, “So Tamara is safe?”

“Aye, safe and sound. Made new friends with the Church of Eternal Fire. Seems happy enough.”

“What does she intend to do?”

“Search for her mother.”

“Hmmm.”

“Something going on here?”

Geralt explained what he’d done so far. After arriving her, he’d discovered the children and a woman they called ‘Gran’. He realised straight away that Gran was what they called a sandwich short of a picnic. But he also recognised she must have suffered tremendous trauma, but she cared for the children, and that was what mattered. There was the adventure of trying to find Johnny, a young boy who turned out to be a godling. Never met one myself, but Geralt spoke of him warmly, particularly the small adventure of trying to find his voice. He explained what that meant and it all eventually led to him talking to the ‘Ladies of the Wood’, otherwise known as the Crones.

“Tomorrow, we head to somewhere called Downwarren. I know it’s some sort of trick or trap but it’s the only way I can learn about Ciri.” He glanced at me. “How was Oxenfurt?”

“Fine.”

“Meet anyone while I was there?” I definitely looked at him with wide eyes. “Heightened senses, Ragnar. I can smell her on you.”

“For fuck…” He chuckled at my expense. “I honestly didn’t expect to run into her.”

“I know that but you obviously enjoyed time with her. Is she well?”

“Aye. Conscripted into the Redanian Army. Now a fully-fledged doctor too. She passes on her good wishes as always.”

“You know, I should be a little pissed off you’re getting more action than I am. Tomira, then Keira, now Shani. Who next, Ragnar?”

“Triss, hopefully. You could always sail to Skellige.”

“I could, but that means leaving the job here half done. Once we’re in Novigrad, I’ll find time to enjoy myself. I’ll hopefully complete a few contracts and earn some coin at the same time.”

I think our presence was barely tolerated by Gran at best. I was introduced to her, but apart from exchanging a terse pleasantry, from her side at least, she practically ignored us, all her attention focused on the children. Geralt and I kept to ourselves, thankful that I’d brought a tent at least so, if the weather did turn, I would stay somewhat dry.

Thankfully, it remained dry, and we set out the next morning for Downwarren. It was only a short ride back up the hill, a small village of barely a half dozen homesteads. Geralt must have had a description of the ealdorman we had to meet, and though he wasn’t expecting us, as soon as Geralt showed him a ceremonial dagger, he was immediately cooperative, and explained what was required of us.

We were told about an area nearby named the Whispering Hillock. There was a mention of an evil power or spirit. Peasants haunted by nightmares. Various other omens that scared the peasants and suggested darker forces were at play. It was clear the ealdorman both feared but respected the Crones, and it seemed that, in their own way, they did help and protect those living near or within the woods.

I still didn’t completely understand the world I lived in, even after around ten years or more, but I knew anywhere that was infested with the bones of the dead could be haunted. And it sounded like this evil power was feeding on the souls of the dead. Could be wrong, but if what I’d been told about the Crones already, they certainly took payment from the living in the form of some sort of sacrifice which gave them their power.

Assuring the ealdorman we’d take care of the problem, Geralt and I mounted off and headed in the vague direction of the Whispering Hillock. We remained rather quiet as we rode along. I was left with the sense we were being watched by the woods, whether it be the trees around us, the birds in the sky, or the animals scurrying along the ground. Woods such as these were alive, had their own energy, their own life cycle. Been through more than one forest to sense I was entering almost a foreign land.

“What do you think?” I finally asked.

“If there is another spirit that inhabits these woods, no wonder the Crones hate it. So I do wonder who or what this spirit is and what it will have to offer.”

“But it sounds… evil… I mean, I know the Crones are not exactly the friendliest of spirits from what you told me, but the peasants seemed genuinely afraid of whatever this spirit is.”

“Most peasants are idiots, Ragnar. I’m sure you’ve realised that. Superstitious fools.”

I couldn’t help chuckle. “Come on, Geralt. After all the things you’ve seen and done, do you blame them?”

He gave that a moment of thought. “Hmmm. Guess I’m being a little harsh. But you know enough to know I won’t make a judgement yet, regarding either the Crones or whatever this spirit is.”

Approaching the hill upon which an enormous oak tree rested, we dismounted as the path narrowed considerably. We were immediately upon by a pack of wolves, which suggested the spirit sensed our presence and meant to defend itself. The wolves were easy to take care, flames generally scaring them off, but if needed, we’d cut them down.

We found more than one corpse, a couple were rather ‘fresh’, while others had obviously lain there for longer as they had started to decompose. Then we ran into a werewolf. Geralt immediately had his silver word unsheathed. Werewolves were practically the same as those back on my world, so as long as we didn’t let it gain an upper hand, we would be safe. I kept it distracted with flame, almost taunting it at times. Trick worked, of course, as the werewolf only had eyes for me, leaving Geralt free to stick his sword through its spine, before putting it out of its misery with a strike through the heart.

Then it was time to deal with the ancient power, whatever it was. And it turned out to be… something beneath the ancient oak. Hard to explain, to be honest, but if it looked like anything, it was a giant heart. What surprised us both is that the voices we had heard approaching the cave was of the spirit. It suggested to us that it had been imprisoned against its will. That it could help up against the witches of Crookbag Bog. That it could save the children under the care of Gran. It practically insinuated that the witches would eat the children.

Geralt told the spirit that we needed to think about it. The spirit didn’t particularly like that, but as we had listened, and been generally cooperative, it couldn’t try and attack us, otherwise it would remain stuck where it was. Roots that had originally blocked out way had now disappeared, the pair of us heading outside.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Didn’t believe a word of it.” He paused and made a sound. “Okay, I think whatever the spirit is would keep its word about the children. Definitely trying to appeal to our better nature.”

“Want me to head back and keep an eye on them?”

“No. They are powerful witches, Ragnar. I know you have your gift and everything but I only know of these witches by reputation, and it’s obvious how powerful they are. I think we’ve barely seen a taste of what they’re capable of.”

“So is this spirit benign or something else?”

“Well, it’s clearly got ulterior motives. If we release it, I simply don’t know what it’s truly capable of. These witches are a known quantity, at least. Are they completely evil? They seem to care for those living in the woods, in their own way. It’s one of these times when there really isn’t a right answer, Ragnar. Nothing is ever black or white. It’s always shades of grey.” He sighed, running a hand through his white hair, before unsheathing his sword. “I’ve made my decision. Come on, let’s just get this over and done with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcome and appreciated if you have something to add. Otherwise, if you enjoyed the chapter / story, I do enjoy receiving those daily kudos emails.


	10. First Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... I visit a trope I usually avoid regarding the main character but the idea amused me as I continued writing so... here we are...

Walking out the cave, I could only trust the decision Geralt had made. It wasn’t my place to decide. Every decision he was making was in regards to finding Ciri. I knew many of the choices he made were not easy. Hell, most choices I ended up making were not easy, possibly leading to the deaths of people I knew and loved. As we mounted up, he continued to say little until we were back on the path to Crookback Bog.

“Couldn’t trust it, Ragnar,” he finally said, “There was just something unsettling. And when my medallion starts humming, it tells me something is wrong. I don’t believe that was just some ordinary spirit. I have no doubt it was powerful.”

“Geralt, when it comes to things like that, I follow your lead. You have much more experience dealing with these matters.”

The ealdorman of Downwarren was pleased to see us return, and even happier to hear that the spirit had been taken care of. Geralt admitted he had considered releasing it, but in the end, he trusted that less than the Ladies of the Wood. He then disappeared for a few minutes, returning with a bandage around his head, offering an ear.

“The fuck?” I asked myself quietly, glancing between him and Geralt.

“Tis our pact. Ye're a stranger, ye don't know life here. It's honest pay for their protection.”

“So all those ears in the woods…” Geralt stated but trailed off.

“Put it out yer mind, master. Ye soon be leavin', and we must tarry on. Our young'uns, and their young'uns after them. No gods nor masters watch over Velen. The land is no man's. He who wants to survive must seek his own protectors.”

I had nothing to say to that. I’d been a decade and more on the Continent but still didn’t understand most of it. Geralt understood more, but even the Ladies of the Wood took understanding. Whatever they were, the people seem devoted to them. Mounting our horses, we returned south to meet with the ladies themselves, Geralt assured they would keep their word and give him the information we sought.

Entering the orphanage once again, the buildings were ominous in their silence. No sight nor sound of the children at all. “Fuck,” Geralt muttered. I felt my stomach drop at the same time. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as bad as we feared.

Dismounting, I unsheathed my sword immediately, Geralt clearing his throat. Meeting his eyes, he shook his head. “I don’t trust them, Geralt. And if they’ve done anything to those kids…”

“Then there is nothing you can do about it right now.”

“Geralt, I’m generally not an arrogant son of a bitch. But I’m the fucking…”

He stepped closer and grabbed my wrist. “They are stronger, Ragnar,” he growled, “Trust me on this one. I know the power you have. Look around, remember what we’ve heard, think of how we’ve felt in these woods the entire time, the sense we were being observed, that prickling feeling up your spine. They have powers even I don’t fully comprehend. Put your blade away. We don’t need to provoke a fight just yet.”

“But the children…”

“Were the price the spirit demanded but one that could not be paid. If a spirit that powerful has been trapped, what do you think would have happened should we release it? Remember that pesta you ran into on Fyke Isle? I have no doubt that spirit would have been incredibly powerful, and also destructive.”

I sighed, sheathing my sword. “Don’t like this, Geralt. I know I’ll never…”

“Me too, Ragnar. Sterile, remember? But at least you could if you didn’t just want to fuck sorceresses.” He paused and smiled, giving me a gentle elbow. “But I see the attraction.”

I stood back as he laid an ear on a rock in the centre of the clearing. It didn’t take long for the ladies to appear, and Geralt muttered they looked nothing like they did in some tapestry within the main building. They were… hideous looking things. Utterly grotesque creatures. I would forever refuse to consider them human.

“Crones,” Geralt muttered, “I’ve heard of them before.”

The old lady, Gran, was still around, summoned by the Crones to deliver the ear. She looked… crestfallen, even heartbroken, and it was that which confirmed to me that the children were gone. But it was when Gran was handing the ear over that one of the Crones used a spell, and a mark appeared on the right hand of Gran. A mark Geralt recognised immediately.

“This is Anna Strenger, the wife of the baron of Crow’s Perch,” he stated. At least that meant our search for his family was now over.

The Crones did not deny that fact, they claimed Anna now belonged to them, that Anna had agreed to serve them as they had helped her. Suddenly, everything was making sense. When escaping from Crow’s Perch, heading for Oxenfurt with her daughter, it was a creature the Crones had sent that had kidnapped her. No doubt Tamara had no idea that her mother had agreed a pact with the Crones.

Geralt could see me getting a little… antsy. I had no love for Philip Strenger, but Anna did not belong with the Crones. If she belonged anywhere, it was safe with her daughter, far away from anyone, or anything, that would harm her. My hand went to the hilt of my sword. First the children, now Anna. Gods only knew what else they were doing at that exact moment.

“Easy there, dragon,” one of the Crones warned, “Don’t be making rash decisions.”

“Where are the children?” I demanded.

“Safe,” another Crone replied.

“Safe where?” I asked, “Tell me!”

“Control your friend, white one, lest the dragon finds himself on a leash as one of our playthings.”

Geralt made a gesture, but he gave me a few seconds to calm down, as I glared at the three Crones. I could easily use my Thu’um, but I had a bad feeling it would do absolutely nothing to them. I finally took a deep breath, removed my hand from the hilt of my sword, left my arms hanging loose at my side.

The Crones had remained relaxed throughout, returning to ignoring me as Geralt broached the crux of the matter, asking about Ciri. A favour done was a favour owed, and the Crones explained what happened to Ciri.

What they told us… working for the Wild Hunt, or at least _with_ if not _for_ … But it wasn’t just that. They freely admitted that they wanted to… _eat_ her. Hand to the hilt of my sword again, straight away. Geralt remained still, giving nothing away, but he was like a coiled spring. He would only leap into action when absolutely ready to strike.

When they were done spinning their tale, and bizarrely I don’t think a single word uttered was a lie, Geralt crouched down, running his palm in the dirt, before he stood back up, slapping his palms together to clean them. No doubt his veins coursed with anger and adrenaline, wanting nothing more than to strike all three of them down without mercy. I already had visions of doing the same thing.

“You tried to kill her,” he stated, his voice so low, the anger was taking on a form of its own, “Tried to butcher her like an animal and eat her.”

“Her blood, the taste brought back memories of our youth,” the first Crone stated.

“Elder Blood. Extraordinary girl. But you know that,” the second Crone added.

“Such a shame she fled,” the last Crone finished.

Geralt made a gesture, for me not to move a muscle. I knew why. He didn’t want a fight just yet. But I had a feeling the Crones had just made his list. Somehow, we’d try and take them down. “I’ll find her,” he stated, “We always find each other. And once we are re-united, we will return here together, and we will kill you.”

Fog immediately started to surround us, Geralt taking out his sword, following his example immediately. But there was no danger in the mist, simply the taunts of the Crones as they used the fog to disappear. I ignored most of them, wanting to return my own warnings, but it would have been a waste of words. Geralt simply observed, waiting for anything that might appear through the gloom, but in the end, all we heard was cackling and laughing before there was silence, the fog disappearing to show an empty clearing.

Returning to our horses, I asked, “What about Gran?”

“We can’t take her right now. No doubt there will be some curse or link to the Crones. We make our report to Strenger then we move on.”

“And Gran?” I asked again. He turned to meet my eyes. “We leave her here for now, Geralt. Fine, I can deal with that. But I am not leaving her here to remain forever. We return to Strenger, make our report, then see what he says. Because, I promise you this, if he wants to march here and take her back, I’ll be prepared to help him.” I paused and added, “And his daughter talked about trying to find her as well.”

“Go to Oxenfurt and let her know where her mother is. I’ll return to Crow’s Perch and update the baron. She won’t agree to go to Crow’s Perch so have her and her people meet us at Lindenvale.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know when I’ve made contact with her. Still got the xenovox?”

“Aye. I’ll keep an ear out.”

We rode north, staying together until we had passed by Lindenvale, with the road branching east or west. Sharing a last glance and nod, he headed west, I headed east. It was dark by the time I made it to the bridge leading over the Pontar towards Oxenfurt, leaving my horse outside the tavern, heading straight for the same house I’d found Tamara originally.

“She’s still here,” I was told to my immense relief, this time allowed to enter and head upstairs.

Knocking on the door of the bedroom, she opened it, definitely surprised to see me again. “I found her,” I said straight away. The hug surprised me just as much in return, returning the embrace before I let her go, smiling as her cheeks took on a rosy colour.

“Come in… Ragnar, correct?”

“Aye,” I said as I stepped into a well-furnished room. Taking the offered seat, she returned quickly with a drink for me, which I thanked her for, watching as she took a seat next to me. “How many details do you want?”

“Just the basics.”

“Your mother made a pact with some witches. Ladies of the Wood. They reside in a place called Crookback Bog.”

“We must head there immediately!” she stated, making to stand up.

I gently grabbed her wrist, which earned a curious glance. “Tamara, these are not enemies you just go marching towards, demanding her release. They are powerful creatures. It’s not only about numbers. No matter what happens, there will be a fight, but the most important thing is that your mother is kept safe. Would you like to wait here?”

“I can. Thank you.”

She disappeared though returned within twenty minutes, stating we would meet them at the bridge the next morning and make our moves from there. I was ready to just leave and head to the tavern, or at least to Shani’s place, when she asked, “Would you like to stay a while?”

I couldn’t help smile as I heard the tone. I would have laughed, but I think she might have taken that the wrong way. “How old are you, Tamara?”

“Nineteen.”

“And you worship the Eternal Fire?”

“It has given me strength during this time of crisis.”

“Hmmm.”

She stepped towards me. “I am to become one of them. A witch hunter. It requires… devotion. Absolute devotion. Know what I mean?”

“Aye. I know what you mean.”

“Father’s men… they would watch me. I know they did. None would have dared lift a finger though. He’d have murdered them with his bare hands. But my father is no longer around. There is only you and me here now, Ragnar.”

I couldn’t help chuckle to myself. “So I’m guessing you’re a…”

“Virgin? Yes. Even if I wanted to be with someone, and trust me, I did proposition more than one soldier. Hoped one would eventually say yes then father would find out, see that his precious little girl can… well, not one of them ever agreed. Even the older men.”

“So I’m just a convenient cock?”

She rested a hand on my chest, looking up at me with doe eyes. I’d received the same look from more than one woman. “I’ve heard of your before. I don’t clam to know all about you, but the poet Dandelion… I’m sure there are elements of truth to his stories, yes?”

I chuckled again. “I have enjoyed the company of various women over the years.”

“Do you have a friend in Oxenfurt?”

“I do.”

“Would you like to stay here with me instead tonight? Just one night, Ragnar. After that, you will continue in your search, I will head off towards my new life, but maybe it will be something we can both look back on fondly.”

I sighed… then I leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. I felt her smile immediately, probably thinking she’d ‘won’. I would have stayed as soon as she asked me to. She was definitely cute, and no doubting she was brave, as I had a feeling she had organised everything for her and her mother to escape. Her age belied a cunning and strength of character that one could only consider impressive.

When I picked her up, it was the first time I heard her laugh, carrying her across to the large bed, placing her back on her feet as I started to slowly undo the clothing she was wearing while continuing to kiss her. I don’t think I was her first kiss, but even with that, I could sense her inexperience, but also her nerves. She spoke confidently, but it’s one thing talking and thinking about it, then there is actually going through with it.

Once I had her down to her underwear, which was plain but looked good on her, I noticed her shaking slightly. So I hugged her again. “Nervous?” I asked softly.

“Yes. Of course I am!” she replied, laughing to herself, “Don’t want to stop though. Want… need to go through with this.”

“At any time, if you want to stop…”

“I know, Ragnar.” She looked up, and it was perhaps the first genuine smile on her face. She was rather pretty when she smiled. “I won’t want to stop. But… well, you had a first time as well.”

“My first time was with a whore. When I say it like that, it doesn’t sound great. Thing is, I became a regular after that first time, visited her a couple of times a week. Eventually ended up becoming friends.”

Lying her back on the bed, I quickly undressed until I was down to my underwear. She blushed when I leaned down over her. Her eyes, though, they definitely liked what they saw. Gently caressing her cheek, she almost giggled as I leaned down to kiss her. This one, she was much more confident, slowly opening her mouth. As we made out, I ran a hand slowly down her body, feeling her rather large breasts, managing to get a hand under the cloth to feel one of her hard nipples, making her gasp when I gave one a gentle squeeze.

That made me smile as I moved my hand down her soft body, running it under the band of her panties, feeling hair about her pussy before I felt how wet she was. That made me smile as I gave her a gentle fondle, and that made her whimper, needing to break the kiss. “Oh my,” she whispered.

“I assume you’ve touched yourself…”

She giggled. “It’s different when someone else does it…”

“Want to know what I’m going to do?” She nodded eagerly. “I’m going to take off your bra and panties…” She helped me by immediately taking off her bra, revealing a pair of full breasts, far larger than I thought they’d be, “Then I’m going to use my mouth all over your body.” I leaned down and kissed her. “Then we’ll make love,” I added, “And I promise to be gentle to start with.”

She smirked. “To start with?”

“Well, I can feel your excitement. I have no doubt I’ll be getting rather excited too.”

“Can I see you?”

“Of course.” I sat back on my knees, removing her panties first, pleased to see her pussy glistening in the light of all the candles. I leaned down a moment and just inhaled her scent, something I did with every lover. Nothing better than the scent of a woman turned on by just being with you. Taking off my own underwear, I kept my eyes on my face as I revealed it.

“Oh my,” she whispered again as I leaned down to kiss her, not surprised when she did move a hand down to gently grasp my cock, “Oh… that’s… is it big?”

“Big enough. The only thing I will worry about it is making sure I don’t hurt you.”

I then shut up and kissed her again, and made sure I spent a long time getting her all hot and bothered. I’ll admit I adored her breasts. For a nineteen-year-old woman, they were spectacular, and she made a lot of noise when focusing on just her nipples, though one of my hands was also feeling her up at the same time, feeling her body shudder at my touch. She knew enough to not just lie there, feeling her fingers run through my hair, making sure I looked up and smiled, enjoying every little gasp and moan that escape her.

Kissing slowly down her body, I could sense her eagerness for me to finally use my mouth on her. I kissed all around her pussy, even kissing down her thighs, making her groan slightly in frustration, before I finally spread her legs nice and wide, and licked up her slit. That made her gasp as I buried my face and just… savoured her.

She enjoyed her first orgasm… rather quickly. She covered her mouth when she did, and that’s when I stopped and sat up a moment. “Don’t cover your mouth,” I suggested softly, “No need to be embarrassed about it.”

“I’m used to masturbating with my parents across the hall.”

“Just you and I here now, Tamara. So next time I make you cum, let it all out.”

“Keep going. I’m feeling… tingles and… my heart beat is going so fast…”

So I kept on going, savouring her taste, enjoying all the little sounds she made, the reactions her body made. She wasn’t the first virgin I’d been with, though was the first one I’d been with on the Continent. I’m fairly sure Dandelion had this idea of me, going around Skyrim, killing beasts and dragons, and deflowering virgins. To be honest, I generally avoided them, simply because I enjoyed being with a woman who… well, being blunt, knew what she wanted.

Tamara was surprisingly confident, though I liked to think I helped in some way. The fact I was so eager helped calm her down, and I had no problem giving her a little instruction, as much as she would tell me what felt really good.

And when she enjoyed a second orgasm, she released everything she was feeling. She moaned. She cried out. Her language was surprisingly vulgar. She waxed lyrical about the expertise of my tongue. Then I slid two fingers inside her, finding that spot, and watching her back arch as she begged me to keep going, I was just about ready to slide inside her.

I gave her time to relax after her third one, as that seemed to be the most powerful, and she wasn’t exactly with it for a couple of minutes. Leaving gentle kisses back up her body, I relaxed next to her, looking up and down her body, chest rising and falling with each deep breath, before she finally opened her eyes, meeting mine. “Wow,” she whispered, “You like doing that?”

“I love doing it, Tamara. With every lover. No greater feeling as a man, when with a woman, than making her orgasm. Still a mystery to me, how it happens with some women, and not another, but there are one or two tricks I’ve learned that work with most women.”

“Bloody worked with me then,” she exclaimed, another giggle that, I’ll be honest, was a dagger to the heart. Now that she was completely relaxed and carefree, at least for the next couple of hours, she was a completely different person. Cuddling into my side, she ran her fingers up and down my chest. “You’re a soldier?” she asked, fingertips trailing a scar or three.

“Warrior,” I replied, “Fought in the war.”

“Who for?”

“Temeria. Didn’t go well, obviously.”

“At least it’s over for now.”

“For now,” I said softly, before giving her a gentle squeeze, “But let’s not talk about such matters. What I’m concerned about is the naked young woman next to me, who I would love nothing more than being intimate with right now.”

She looked up and met my eyes. “Please,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss me.

Being someone’s first time does add a little pressure, I have no problem admitting that. I was harder than steel, and rather excited at the prospect. Positioning myself between her legs, I gently spread them further apart before lining myself up, teasing her a little by running the head of my cock against her slit. She smiled at that, sensing she was relaxing, before I gently slid my cock inside her.

The moan she released was completely involuntary and made her giggle. Letting her get used to the presence of my cock inside her, I took my time starting to thrust, and it was only then that she seemed to be a bit lost at what to do. Gently grabbed one wrist, then the other, I suggested she place those on my back, and I soon felt her fingertips digging into me, which made me smile.

“How does it feel?” I asked.

She didn’t reply for a few seconds. “I can’t…” she whispered, and I heard the catch. Her reaction wasn’t a surprise, so I leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips.

“I’ll go for as long as you can manage.” Lifting her chin with a finger, I added, “And I can cum and go again very quickly.” That made her cheeks glow, which made me chuckle. “Beautiful, young woman such as yourself? I won’t have a problem getting hard all night.” That made her giggle again.

We did make love all night. The first time I came inside her, she wrapped her arms and legs around me, and needed a little weep. I just gently grabbed and turned onto my back, holding her against me. “Oh my god, it feels so weird but good,” she finally said with a giggle. Then she sat up and smiled. “Oh… oh, I like this, Ragnar.”

“Give me a couple of minutes, then you can ride me, if you’d like?”

Tamara Strenger absolutely loved riding Ragnar Dragonborn. Watching her ride me, her pale, soft body, those spectacular breasts swaying as she learned how to move, resting my hands at her hips though running my fingers up and down her body, little wonder she enjoyed her first orgasm with my cock inside her. No tears that time, simply a loud giggle as she continued to ride me. No idea how long I lasted until I came again, which just earned another giggle as I held onto her, thrusting with each throb.

She wanted to be on her back again, running her hands up and down my arms, learning that having her legs wrapped around me felt even better, and I started to move a little faster that time. It took a little getting used to, but she was soon loving it, our kissing deeper, more passionate, earning more than one moan of mine into her mouth, and whenever I made her whimper with desire, I felt my cock just get even harder.

After my third orgasm, that was me done in for the evening. It was a really good one, and even I had my limits. Remaining inside her until I finally softened, she immediately snuggled back into my body, though started to giggle. “I can feel cum leaking out of me,” she whispered.

“We should probably clean up.”

“No, I want to enjoy the feeling. Might not happen again.” She went silent as I held her, my fingers caressing nearly her entire body. I heard a sniffle eventually, and just hugged her a little tighter. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’m just glad you enjoyed it.”

“I loved every second, Ragnar. I’m glad it was you.” Wasn’t the first time I’d heard that, but every time I did, it did make my heart swell, and simply like her a little bit more in return. “Now I know what I’m missing though.”

“Well, if I’m ever nearby…”

I tickled her, making her laugh, as she spun around and met my eyes, leaning forward to kiss me, caressing her cheek as she slowly pulled back. I saw the look in her eyes. Wasn’t the first time I’d seen a look from a woman after that first time. I’m sure plenty of men looked at women the same way after their first time. So I caressed her back, feeling her relax in my arms, and when she settled against me, I knew she was fast asleep.

I’ll admit, even after that first and, I knew, only time, I liked her too.

We washed together the next morning, Tamara not shy for a moment, appearing to revel in her nudity. I drank her body in as the early morning light filtered through the windows. It was only when there was a knock on the door, announcing that we had visitors, that we finally dressed. Before heading downstairs, she grabbed her hand. “Ragnar…”

“I won’t mention a thing.”

“No, not that.” She wrapped her arms around the back of my neck and kissed me hard. I couldn’t help smile as she ended up pressed against the door, earning a moan into my mouth. We only broke apart as we couldn’t go any further. “Thank you. Thank you for last night. And thank you for what we’re about to do.”

I caressed her cheek, earning one of those sweet smiles I was already getting used to seeing. “You’ve got a good heart, Tamara. That’s what I’ve learned about you already.”

She blinked rapidly and looked away, whispering one last, “Thank you,” before we headed downstairs. witch hunters there to meet us. She recognised all of them. During our conversations, I had mentioned my concerns. She admitted privately that she had no problem with magic, and was only joining their ranks due to the favour owed for their assistance in helping her escape. “I don’t like what I hear either, Ragnar,” she had said, “So I’m hoping I’ll only be involved in the theory of the Eternal Fire. But the price for their help was my own commitment. It still seems to be a price worth paying.”

Informing them of my agreement with Geralt, they were not particularly happy to hear about it, but once I’d told them what I’d told Tamara the night before, they agreed that going in numbers would be best. Collecting my horse from the tavern, there was myself, Tamara and six witch hunters on horseback. I led the way, straight for Lindenvale, Tamara at my side, the other six in our wake. Glancing her way every so often, the smiling girl I’d seen the night before and that morning had been replaced by a grim-faced, determined young woman.

Good. Just what I wanted to see.

We made it to Lindenvale in good time, though was concerned there was no sign of Geralt, Strenger or his men. Asking Tamara and the others to wait, I knew if Geralt had a message, he’d leave it in the tavern.

I earned a few glances from the locals as I approached the innkeeper. “Has a white haired man left a message for someone?”

He looked me up and down. “You are?”

“Ragnar Dragonborn. The men who left the message…”

“Aye. He did. Word of mouth. Said the baron wouldn’t wait here. They were heading further south, and would likely camp at Downwarren by nightfall.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

Heading outside, I mounted up and gestured, explaining to Tamara and her witch hunter friends the slight change in plan. It was dark by the time we made it to Downwarren, but passing sentries wearing the same uniform as the baron’s men, I knew they were waiting for our arrival.

Geralt and baron were in discussion with a couple of his men when I approach with Tamara and the lead witch hunter, Graden. Strenger was obviously delighted to see his daughter, but she moved towards me when he approached her. I kept my face blank but made sure he met my eyes.

“They will know we’re coming,” Geralt finally stated, “I would prepare your men, Strenger. There’s a good chance many won’t be returning to Crow’s Perch. Same goes for those witch hunters, Graden.”

Geralt and I walked away, as we would camp separately. As soon as we had privacy, he turned to me. “You slept with her.”

“What?”

“Ragnar, I’m not blind. You slept with her. I saw exactly how she was looking at you. The look of a woman who had felt the touch of a man for the first time the night before. You slept with her.”

“I did.”

“Why? If Strenger finds out…”

“I’ll beat him up again. Strenger doesn’t frighten me.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “She wanted to know what it felt like to be with a man. And once we got to know each other, she’s actually a rather sweet hearted young woman. She didn’t want to join the ranks of witch hunters as a virgin.” Geralt just chuckled. “It was a good night, Geralt. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“Must have been. As I said, the look in her eyes, Ragnar.”

“I know,” I said softly, “But we knew it would only be the one night.”

Sitting by the campfire once darkness descended, even I could sense the woods were alive. Plenty of noises that would have scared the life out of the ordinary man and woman. But most of it was in the mind. The Crones knew we were there, but they wouldn’t resort to dirty tricks. I reckoned they would be confident enough to face all of us the next day.

Breakfast the next morning was awkward, as the baron’s men and the witch hunters clearly didn’t get along. To prevent any major falling out, I suggested we just leave immediately, those of us with horses mounting up, the rest proceeding on foot.

We were not alone between Downwarren and the orphanage, as there was no doubt the Crones did use a few tricks to thin our ranks. Nothing more concerning than a few drowners, some rotfiends, and even a water hag, but we lost no-one on the way, eventually entering the silent orphanage. No sooner had those of us on horseback dismounted that we found ourselves under attack again, drowners seeming to come from absolutely nowhere, and in more numbers than ever. That’s when did we start losing more than one man, and the only reason I didn’t use my Thu’um is that, although I trusted Tamara, I did not trust her new friends.

“Find your mother!” I yelled out, glancing to see Tamara and her father pull back, looking for Graden, meeting his eyes and nodding, understanding what I meant.

It was only when the last drowner was dead, noticing we’d lost a couple of the baron’s men, and also witch hunters, that I heard uncontrollable weeping. As orders were issues to patrol the perimeter, I turned to see Tamara sobbing, and it was obvious straight away that Anna Strenger was physically okay but her mind was… cracked, if not gone entirely.

Before anyone could discuss what to do next, an enormous fiend appeared through the mist. That’s when I decided enough was enough, ordering everyone to clear a path. “Get your silver ready, Geralt,” I stated.

“You sure you want to do it when they are present?”

“If they think they can take me, they can try.”

The fiend circles all of us, Geralt and I making sure we kept ourselves between it and everyone else. Only when it made to charge did I step forward and Shout.

YOL – TOOR – SHUL

As the fiend erupted in flames, Geralt and I charged forward, slicing the fiend again and again. Forcing it back, there was no missing it wilt due to the flames and out attacks, Geralt finally sticking his silver sword through the heart of the beast. It collapsed onto the ground, resting on its back, Geralt taking its head for good measure.

“Where are you?” I roared, turning around, looking for the Crones. I must have had a wild look in my eyes, as everyone took a couple of steps back. But the Crones had now seen my power, and they did not show their faces nor did we hear their voices again.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I took a deep breath before Geralt patted me on the back. “They won’t show their faces now. Too many of us, plus the Dragonborn is angry.”

“Oh, that doesn’t even begin to describe my feelings right now, Geralt.”

But I sheathed my sword and joined the others gathered around Anna. Tamara had calmed down by now, but I earned plenty of curious glances when she came straight to me, her arms holding me tight, resting her head against me. I kissed the top of her head.

Strenger looked at me, and he understood completely, removing his hat, scratching his head. “What’s wrong with her?” he finally asked.

Geralt crouched down next to Anna, who was almost childlike in her mannerisms. He reached out to stroke her hair. All she did was look at him and smile. “She's been through a lot. Lost a child, was carried off by a fiend, lived in the Crones' village taking care of children who are now gone... It's left its mark, as it would on anyone.”

Tamara let me go as she turned around, crouching next to Geralt. “Is there nothing we can do to help her?”

“Nothing I can think of. I’m sorry, Tamara. I deal with monsters. A fractured mind is beyond my realm of understanding.”

“I know a hermit, a very wise man with a gift for healing,” Strenger finally said, “Met him some time past. Lives in the Blue Mountains. I shall take her there.”

Tamara looked ready to say something before she glanced at Graden. He returned a single nod, then she looked back at me. I glanced at Strenger first, and all I said was a broken man, a failed father, and a horrible husband. But there was no doubt he still had love in his heart for both, and he would move the heavens and earth to help his wife. I nodded once at Tamara.

“I shall go with you, father,” Tamara stated.

“That’s impossible, sadly,” Graden retorted.

“Why?” Tamara asked.

“You have duties, duties deriving from your commitment to the Church of the Eternal Fire. Once we finish our work in Velen, we return to Oxenfurt.”

She looked ready to argue, but the fight had gone out of her. She stepped back as the baron approached his wife, picking her up ever so gently. I wasn’t the only one to see the couple of tears run down his cheeks. They were as broken as each other, in their own way. Hand on heart, I could only wish them both the best of luck. Whether she could ever be cured, I wasn’t sure. I think even Geralt had his doubts.

Mounting his horse, Anna resting in front of us, he announced he would return to Crow’s Perch immediately before beginning his journey. His men slowly but surely disappeared, while the witch hunters began to disperse. Geralt disappeared into the nearby building as Tamara approached me.

I kissed her. Graden noticed and was smart enough to turn around. We kissed for a long time. She cried during it, so I simply held her, kisser her, and tried to make her feel better. Not sure if it worked, but she seemed to enjoy our kiss, at least. “Will I see you again?” she asked upon breaking apart.

“I’m not sure. I’ll be around, that I do know.”

“I’ll be in Oxenfurt for a time. After that, I’m not sure.”

I took both her hands in mine, hers rather delicate to mine. “Tamara, we had a wonderful night, one I hope we’ll both remember fondly.” She smiled, and blushed again. “I’ll carry memories of what we shared for the rest of my life. But it’s been… a shit day otherwise. If I can watch you leave with at least a smile on your face, then that’s a little something I can take with me.”

She kissed me one last time, stroked my cheek with one of her soft hands, before she turned and walked back to Graden. The witch hunters mounted up, and after a last wave of goodbye, they filed into a line and disappeared, Tamara not turning around. Perhaps for the best.

Geralt appeared from the building to find the area now deserted. I took a seat on the nearby rock, upon which the ear had been laid, and sighed. “What an absolute shitshow,” I muttered.

He took a seat next to me. “Aye, but I’ve learned there are very few happy endings, Ragnar. This is real life, not one of Dandelion’s ballads.”

“Before we decide on where to head next, I think we have one more thing to do is Velen.”

“What?”

“Take care of matters at Crow’s Perch. If Strenger leaves….”

“He has kept a lid on most of their excesses.”

“I think we cleanse Crow’s Perch of the baron’s men. The only problem is who do we leave in charge?”

“We let them decide for themselves. But if he was receiving help from the Black Ones…”

“I don’t like them, but they’re not the evil bastards many think they are. That captain in White Orchard was a reasonable man.”

“They’re not all like him, though.”

“Hmmm. True.”

“Come on. We’ll head to Lindenvale and decide from there.”

We took one last look around the orphanage. I dreaded to think of what happened to the children. We both had our suspicions but couldn’t voice them. But the Crones had left their mark on all our lives. I had a feeling this would not be the last time we would have to deal with them.


	11. Friend or Foe

We took a couple of days to ourselves after what happened, or that was the plan to begin with. We needed to as we had barely stopped since entering Velen. Spending a night on the ale in Lindenvale was just what the doctor ordered, and once they learned Geralt was a witcher, we ended up spending another day as he sorted out a contract, always eager to make a little more coin.

I ended up talking to a mature woman, who regaled me with a story of losing her manor as it was infested with monsters. Figuring it was something else Geralt and I could sort out, I agreed to help her. Geralt wasn’t exactly chuffed that I’d agree to a contract, but as the one he’d completed hadn’t proven that difficult, we rode off the next morning for Reardon Manor.

The manor grounds were only a short ride away, but Geralt was immediately suspicious as we rode the path, and brought us to a halt on the outskirts. “Trap ahead,” he muttered.

“There is?”

“Aye. Best continue on foot so I can eliminate the dangers.” As we dismounted and walked forward, Geralt set about disarming the traps, and it was obvious there were no monsters, or if there had been, someone immensely talented had killed the monsters then set the traps. The only people who could set such elaborate traps, and kill monsters, was a fellow witcher. That left me scratching my head.

Searching the manor itself only revealed traps and what looked like a homestead that had been abandoned for some time. Geralt always enjoyed sniffing out a mystery, and he was convinced that something was in the barn. More traps lay inside, though no sign of who might have been there, until we found a ladder and climbed it.

I had my sword in hand immediately as Letho turned towards us. “Wolf. Dragonborn.” His eyes went to my sword. “You’re not planning on doing something stupid, are you?”

“Depends on you.”

He turned and stood up. He was an imposing man, even bigger than myself, arms like tree trunks. “Ain’t here to fight you, Ragnar. Bygones be bygones?”

“Part of me should say no. Still pissed off about everything.”

He nodded. “Understood. Wolf?”

“I agree with my friend here about being pissed off, but enough time has passed. And since you’re here, I assume in hiding…” Geralt glanced at me. “Considering all the traps, Ragnar, it would lead me to believe his situation has changed.”

Letho nodded, looking at me. “I’m no use to them, the emperor, anymore. They want me dead. Perhaps more than you both do.” He gestured for us to join him by the opening. “Was working with someone. Think he’s decided to get rid of me like the emperor.”

“Going out of your way to make a long list of enemies, Letho,” I stated, injecting a little humour.

He gestured with his head as at least six to ten armed men appeared, gathering in the middle of the estate. “Friends of yours?” Geralt asked.

“Friends of someone I thought a friend. I think we should say hello, find out.”

Before either of us could say a word, he dropped down to the ground below. Surprisingly silent. Geralt followed him immediately, muttering to myself as I headed back to the ladder. I wasn’t fleet footed like a witcher, bound to roll an ankle or just straight break my leg. By the time I joined them, the fighting had already begun, so I just unsheathed and started swinging. The mercenaries were abjectly useless, the weapons they using of poor quality, and none wore armour worth the name.

Checking the bodies for information, Letho finally explained what this was all about. He had been working alongside someone called Louis. It was a long and complicated tale, but the fact it ended in backstabbing and betrayal wasn’t a real surprise. It was the type of people Letho had generally found himself working with.

Mounting up, he continued to explain to Geralt, though I kept back slightly, just keeping an eye on our rear. He was leading us towards a camp, and considering the area was thick with bandits, I did think that perhaps the area was crawling with people who would be looking for someone like Letho. The two in front had keener senses, but sometimes they still needed someone to watch their backs, just in case.

Turning off the main road, we crested a rise and approached a campsite. Dismounting a little way back, there were sentries carefully watching our approach, but once they recognised Letho, they seemed to relax, though weapons remained in hand. Geralt stayed next to Letho as I stayed half a dozen paces back, making sure I could see all the mercenaries.

The conversation… did not go well. In fact, it went so badly that, within a few minutes, blood was being spilled. Despite there only being three of us against their ten, we made short work of them, much like the mercenaries we had dealt with at Reardon Manor. Letho purposely kept Louis alive as the rest were killed without mercy, Letho looming over the man as he started to ask him a series of questions.

“Where is Arnout Vester?” Letho asked.

Louis looked from Letho to Geralt and to me, then back at Letho. He gulped. “Lindenvale. He’s in Lindenvale with his men.”

I thought Letho was going to kill him, but instead he stood up and walked back to his horse, Geralt following him without a word. I was tempted to just finish him off, but Geralt called out. “Leave him for the wolves.”

I was ready to argue, but this wasn’t my issue. So I left Louis to his fate, mounting up and following the other two, listening into the conversation between the witchers as Letho explained how he knew Vester and what to expect when we go there.

As we rode through the middle of the village, I glanced to see doors being shut, window shuttered pulled in, everyone getting off the road and out of sight. We rode to the other end of the village, where there were mounts that Letho recognised. Dismounting at the adjoining farm, the three of us approaching the farmstead.

The three of us stopped, looking at the building. “You two. Do not interfere, no matter what happens.” He looked at Geralt first, who nodded, then at me. He shook his head at whatever question I may have asked. Geralt and I walked away though kept an eye on proceedings. Letho threw a bomb to attract attention, and soon at least ten men had emerged from the homestead. We couldn’t hear the conversation, but after he took a crossbow bolt in the shoulder, he made short work of seven of the men. It was rather embarrassing, to be honest.

But someone got in a lucky strike, as he joined the rest on the ground. That’s when we did make our move. Two of us, three of them remaining. Letho had told us not to get involved. Did I care he was dead? Not really, to be honest. But I wouldn’t put up with disrespect, if that’s what they had planned.

Vester noticed us coming and readied himself. “We have no quarrel with you,” he stated.

“We know,” Geralt replied.

“We don’t want any trouble,” I added, ensuring our hands stayed away from our weapons.

“Wise choice.” He glanced at one of his surviving men. “Take his head and let’s get out of here.”

“No,” Geralt stated, “Take his medallion. You don’t need his head.”

Vester looked ready to argue but did the sums. Two of us, three of them. And considering Letho had slaughtered seven of his men, with a crossbow bolt in his shoulder, led his mind to making the sensible decision. “Agreed. We will take his medallion and leave this shithole.”

We stepped aside as they snapped the medallion of from around his neck. Mounting their horses, we watched them quickly disappear. Letho was a heavy bastard, and Geralt had a feeling not all was as it seemed. We dragged his body into the homestead and took a seat, waiting for whatever was to happen. I kept looking at Geralt, and he just told me to be patient.

The bastard woke up! Geralt seemed to understand what Letho told him, about the poison he had taken, but it had fooled everyone, which is just what he wanted. Needing somewhere to lay low, Geralt offered him the chance to go to Kaer Morhen. Letho wasn’t convinced at first, but figuring it was safer than anywhere else on the Continent, he eventually agreed, Geralt finding paper and ink, writing a quick note he could pass to Vesemir, as the old man would be bound to freak out upon seeing him approach.

Finding Dolores in the tavern, I let her know that her manor was now clear of monsters and safe for her to return. She was delighted to hear the news, though as it was now late, she would start walking back the next morning. Geralt and I stayed at the inn, enjoying a few more tankards, agreeing to return to Crow’s Perch the next morning to settle up matters before moving on.

“Novigrad?” I asked.

“We’ve investigated every rumour in Velen. So it makes sense to head to Novigrad. The idea was to find Triss anyway, so that’ll make you happy.”

“Missing Yen?”

He gave me a look. “Of course. Might need to pay a visit or two to a house of ill-repute while we are there. Particularly if you’re going to be busy getting your end away with Triss. Shit, you’ll be so busy doing that, I’ll be doing all the work.”

“I’ll try and keep it in my pants some of the time.”

He scoffed, took a swig of his tankard, then grinned. “You make her happy, Ragnar,” he stated to my surprise.

“Well, I’m glad I do.”

“I knew she nursed a little crush on me before you arrived. Once you did, I had no chance!”

“You had Yennefer.”

“I did and I never forgot that. Plus, I’ve never looked at Triss as anything other than a friend. But once you appeared, you were the…” He trailed off.

“Were the what?”

“I was going to say distraction, but you were much more than that. She fell head over heels in love with you within days.”

“I remember,” I said softly, smiling at many memories made at Kaer Morhen, “I just hope she’s okay.”

“Crow’s Perch then we go north. Hopefully Novigrad isn’t a complete basketcase.”

Mounting up the next morning, with a slight hangover, we headed straight for Crow’s Perch. It took half a day to get there was always, and Geralt felt something was off as we crossed the wooden bridge. Dismounting once across, there was tension in the air that even I could feel. And then we heard the first screams.

Leaving our horses with one of the peasants, we turned left towards a trio of houses. Some of the baron’s men were roughing up a couple of peasants.

“Hand over your fuckin’ coin, you cunt!” one of them shouted, backhanding the man he was holding.

“What else you hidin’ in there? Maybe some sweet little cunt we can make use of?” another stated.

I had my sword in hand without thinking. Glancing at Geralt, he’d done the same thing. Clearing out throats, the group turned towards us. “And who the fuck are you two pricks?” one of them asked, “Fuck off if you know what’s good for ya!”

We struck without hesitation. Peasants leapt out of the way as Geralt and I slaughtered them. Three did manage to take out a weapon, but they barely had time to wield it before they joined their companions on the ground. We made sure they were dead before turning to gaze across the rest of the village. “Methinks the baron has disappeared,” I stated, “He wouldn’t have allowed this.”

“No,” Geralt stated, “So that leaves me wondering who is in charge and what we do now?”

“Cleanse Crow’s Perch, Geralt. Without the baron here, these peasants don’t stand a chance.”

He met my eyes, nodded, and we strode forward. Any man in uniform that approached us was cut down. When we heard more screams, that only attracted our attention, striding to see a group of men around the door of a house, roughing up a peasant.

“Yeah, fuck her. It’ll do her some good!”

“We’ll take care of pencil dick out here. Worthless fucker.”

“I’m goin’ next. Don’t cum in the bitch.”

“Anyone got oil? I’m goin’ to fuck her arse!”

I stuck my sword straight through the spine of the first man, Geralt taking the head of the next. Blood flowed as we cut them down without mercy, before heading inside. Two were watching what was happening on the bed, cocks already out. We cut them down before we hauled the man off the woman on the bed. Naked as he was, he fell to his knees and begged for mercy. For his life.

I took his head.

The woman on the bed covered herself with the sheet. Geralt found a cloak nearby and carefully approached her, offering it. She grasped it with shaking hand. “It will all be over soon. I promise,” he stated softly.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, voice aquiver.

“Kill them all,” I growled.

We headed outside, noticing the crowd of peasants crowding around. “Return to you homes. We will notify you when it is safe,” I announced. Noticing our bloodied swords and armour, they knew we were not going to harm them, but knew better than to argue. Once the area was clear of humans, Geralt and I shared a glance and began the walk up the hill. Crossing under the arch, there was no sign of any men waiting in the area between that and the next arch, but we could see people waiting by the big oak tree ahead.

Geralt and I strode forward confidently. There was no sign of the baron. Instead, it seemed like his sergeant was now in charge, as he stood in front of the rest of his men.

“Witcher!” he called, “Baron is here no longer. Rode off the other day to find a healer. For the wife.”

“I’m aware,” Geralt replied, “I see things have changed since we were last here.”

“What do you mean? Baron left me in command. Told the boys to set things right, put 'em in order, the new order.”

“By new order, you mean murder, pillage and rape?”

“I don’t give a flyin’ fuck if you like it or not. So you’ve got two options. Turn around and fuck off, you and your friend there. Or you can do somethin’ monumentally fuckin’ stupid.”

“Geralt?”

“Yes, Ragnar?”

“This cunt doesn’t live beyond the next few minutes.”

“Agreed.”

For the first time in a long time, I used my Thu’um against humans, but I was far too full of rage to just use my sword. I only used Unrelenting Force, but that alone put the fear of god in some of them. We handled all the other men. I have no idea how many we put a sword through. One or two dropped their weapons and ran. We didn’t chase after them. As for the big, brave sergeant, he picked himself up and ran into the building.

The ground was soon strewn with bodies. Most of them were dead. Those that still breathed would either be lucky to stay alive or would die sooner or later. Geralt and I stepped over them, approaching the stairs and carefully entering the door. We found him in the baron’s old office, holding his sword up, though we could see it shaking.

“Cunts. The pair of you,” he stated.

Geralt stopped and gestured. “He’s yours, Ragnar. You’ve talked about doing this since arriving.”

The sergeant was not talented. I toyed with the bastard, a cut here, a cut there. I would have settled for death by a thousand cuts, but once I had him disarmed and on his knees, I sheathed my sword and took out my dagger. Grabbing him by the hair, I tapped the tip of my dagger under his eye. “I didn’t have much time for Strenger, but he wasn’t an evil man at heart. He was a drunk. He was a bully. But he wasn’t a complete piece of shit. You and your men, on the other hand. No fucking wonder Temeria lost if you’re the type of man who fought for her.”

“You’re a mercenary. No better than any of us.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Geralt stated, “Ragnar fights with a code. He has morals. He fought and bled for Temeria. He is now helping sort out pieces of shit like you. Ragnar, I’m going to step outside. He’s yours to deal with.”

I heard the door close and that’s when the sergeant started to plead and beg for his life. I didn’t take any real pleasure… Okay, I might have taken a little pleasure. “I’m sure you’re wondering what I’m going to do. Maybe I’ll take your eyes? Maybe I’ll take your tongue? Maybe I’ll cut off your cock and balls and stuff them into your mouth?” I tapped the tip of the dagger under his eye. “Maybe I’ll do all the above and really leave a message.”

“Please,” he whimpered, “I’ll do anything.”

“I always had a bad feeling about you and your men. I knew the baron was keeping a lid on your excesses. I just didn’t realise what you and your men would be truly capable of once off the leash. I dread to think of what we would have walked into had Geralt and I arrived in another day or two.”

I let him look at the tip of the dagger, watching his eyes move with the tip, before I stuck it under his jaw, his eyes rolling back as I let go of his head and let it smack on the floor. Part of me really wanted to make a mess of the body, but that would make me no better than them. I had done what I intended. Looking around, I opened the cabinet and took a couple of bottles of liquor before wandering outside, Geralt sat on a bench by the oak tree.

Walking back down in to town, most of the peasants were waiting to see who would reappear. We gestured for them to come closer and told them they would no longer need to live in fear. “So what do we do now?” someone asked.

“You have two choices,” Geralt replied, “One, you all work together to keep yourself safe. There are plenty of weapons up the hill. Mind the bodies. How many of you can wield a sword? Fire a crossbow?” Around a dozen hands were raised. “Good. Then I suggest those of you confident enough start carrying them. No-one will miss these men for at least a few days. Once people come sniffing about, that is when you make your stand.”

“What’s the second choice?”

Geralt looked at me. “The baron was here on behalf of the Black Ones. I came from White Orchard before arriving. The captain in that area was an ordinary man. A peasant in a soldier’s uniform. If you effectively invite them here, they will keep you protected and they are fair in their expectations. Bear in mind, I have no love for them. I fought them further south, but considering there is no lord, and no law, they might be your best option. I would suggest you discuss it amongst yourselves before deciding.”

They decided quickly, before we’d even mounted up to leave, agreeing to invite the Black Ones to offer their protection. To keep them safe, we agreed to go towards their nearest small camp and report in the new situation. No surprise that, before we left, they thanked us for taking care of the baron’s men.

“The Bloody Baron wasn’t a nice man but he at least kept us safe, and usually left us alone,” a man Geralt recognised said, “As soon as he left, that sergeant of his sent his men down here. First thing they wanted was… women. Girls…”

“They’re all dead now. And the Black Ones might be harsh, but they won’t rape and murder indiscriminately,” I stated, “My suggestion is to do as they say and you will find them reasonable. With any luck, you won’t have to tolerate them forever.”

Geralt and I led our horses across the bridge, mounted up, and headed south first. The nearest Nilfgaardian outpost wasn’t too far away. Reporting in what happened, stating the baron had departed and his men had started to attack the peasantry, I was slightly concerned about how they would react. Thankfully, all they did was report on the changes in circumstances and that they would send a few men north immediately to ensure the situation didn’t get out of hand.

With light fading, Geralt and I agreed to get to the river by nightfall, completing the journey north the next day. I was amazed at the number of refugees in camp, hoping to cross the Pontar, but the Redanians were only letting those cross with a pass, and were being methodical in who they let past otherwise. I remembered the line of people hoping to get into Oxenfurt, the desperation to get out of Velen and towards something approaching civilisation leaving a real air of desperation.

As we had passes, we agreed to cross before stopping, and it was amazing the change in atmosphere as soon as we were across. We turned off the main road north and made camp, no tents required as it was a dry evening, only a campfire and a bedroll each, though made him laugh when I pulled out the bottles of liquor I nabbed from the baron’s office.

“We did a good thing,” I muttered, around three or four drinks in.

“Hmmm.”

“You don’t agree?”

“I agreed with cleansing the place of them. As you said, baron wasn’t an evil man, kept them on a leash. And between the baron leaving and our return, I do wonder what they’d already done. Most of them deserved what they got. But trading them for the Black Ones…”

“I would have liked leaving them without one group or another lording it over them, but it’s a fortified position, and someone was bound to show interest eventually. And, to be honest, better the Black Ones than some group similar to the baron’s men.”

“Thought you hated the Black Ones?”

“Got no time for the emperor, and there is an arrogance about them. I think they will be harsh but fair masters. And if they promise to keep the people protected, then that’s all we can ask for right now.”

“But you’ll want to fight them again?”

“I wouldn’t mind another tussle, but I don’t know who I’d be fighting for yet.”

“Radovid and Redania?”

“Don’t particularly like what I hear about him, Geralt.”

“Neither do I. But I’ve got this sneaking suspicion we’ll end up dealing with his somehow.”

We turned in early, aiming to be up and gone by the early dawn. It had been a long few days, and I slept like a log, only waking when Geralt gave me a gently kick in the butt, turning to see he was already up and dressed. We packed up camp and mounted in silence. I was used to it whenever I travelled with him. He didn’t fill the air with useless words. If he had something on his mind, he’d tell me, otherwise we just rode along, staying sharp, ensuring we didn’t find ourselves involved a situation not of our own making.

The change in scenery once across the river was remarkable. The war hadn’t touched this side of the river. Instead of Black Ones or bandits, we generally only passed by Redanian soldiers, one or two making comment of Geralt. With all the rumours we’d heard, I had been left wondering how they would react to his presence. With the obvious distinctive look, wolf medallion, and two swords on his back, he stood out in a crowd.

The Free City of Novigrad was actually four small islands, all joined together by bridges, thick walls protecting them from invasion, only Farcorners with any real defences, though the civilians were still protected by two bridges that could be destroyed if an invading force approached. Approaching the southern outskirts of the city, we would have to cross a bridge before the safety of the city walls. Things looked as normal as they could but we knew appearances could be deceiving. We’d received word of what was happening in Novigrad and across Redania.

Horses were not allowed within the narrow streets of the city, leaving ours tied up alongside others, food and water being provided while we were away. I hadn’t been to Novigrad in a long time, Geralt even longer, but we both remembered our way to Hierarch Square. Well, mostly. Only one or two wrongs turns being taken.

What we found upon our arrival there confirmed the rumours…

“Our Novigrad -- shining and brilliant! Pearl amongst cities! Cradle of the Eternal Fire! Yet it is here that darkness raises its hideous head! A deceitful doppler doubling as commander of the Guard! A band of charlatans, diviners and witches poised to pinch your purity and prosperity! The time has come for this to end! For us to cast off evil! Do you renounce evil?!”

“We renounced evil!” the crowd around us chanted. I shared a concerned glance with Geralt. I had no idea who the man was talking but he spoke the words of an insane preacher.

“Do you renounce evil?” the man cried again.

“We renounce it!” the crowd chanted as one.

“May the Holy Flame of the Eternal Fire complete this cleansing, this purging of pestilence into purity! How are we to fight pestilence that changes form?! None can be certain of his father, brother or bride! Look upon your neighbour, for he too could be a doppler! Will we submit to uncertainty?! Will we allow monsters and charlatans to overrun our city?!”

“No!” the crowd cried.

“May the Holy Flame of the Eternal Fire complete this act of cleansing!”

There were two pyres. And a person attached to each stake. The one to the left was a young woman. The one to the left was a man. Geralt recognised the woman. “Felicia,” he murmured. He made to step forward, probably to try and save her. I grabbed his wrist. “Ragnar,” he growled.

“You involved yourself, the only thing we will be doing is fighting our way out of Novigrad.”

“What if it was Triss up there?”

“I’d kill everyone here. But it isn’t Triss up there. She’s smart. She’ll be safe.”

We could only stand back and watch as the two pyres were lit. The screams of Felicia Cori echoed in the silence, only the crack and pop of the fire soon to be heard. The other pyre was lit, the man to be revealed as a doppler. Geralt muttered to himself again, stating he hoped Dudu hadn’t met the same fate as whoever was at the stake.

Only when the two were quite clearly dead did the crowd slowly disperse. The witch hunter in charge simply gazed upon the crowd with a look of smug satisfaction on his face. The urge to stride over and knock it off was near overwhelming, but just like I’d told Geralt not to get involved, I knew I’d have to follow my own instructions. As the crowd dispersed, we both went with them, making sure we didn’t stand out too much.

My only concern now was finding Triss, and hoping she was still alive.

* * *

_A few years earlier…_

“It won’t be that bad, Ragnar. In fact, I know you’re going to love it. A castle full of sorceresses, most who I know you will want to bed, and most will want to bed you in return. In fact, I encourage both.”

I met her eyes as we rode in the carriage. “And you tolerate that because?”

“One, I love you. Two, it’s to our advantage.”

“Your advantage,” I retorted, though with plenty of humour.

“No, our advantage,” she said softly, gently digging me in the ribs, “You get to enjoy the company of numerous beautiful women, and I get what I want out of it. Before you ask or say anything, I just want to make sure we, as a group, don’t end up doing something monumentally stupid. Yes, we’ve taken control and established the Lodge, but we must remain careful. Enough people already fear us, tolerate us at best. Mages, I mean. We do anything to upset that balance…”

“But you want power and influence, right?”

Triss smiled at me. “Of course, Ragnar. A couple might not be happy you’re attending at all, being a man, but… well, I think once they actually get a _look_ at you, their complaints will cease. I may have…” She cleared her throat. “Enhanced your reputation as well.”

“I’m seriously here to fuck them, aren’t I?” She looked at me, almost pleading with me to understand with her eyes. I relented easily. Always did with her. “You know I love sex, but… even I have limits, Triss.”

She took my hand and cuddled into my side, resting a hand on my chest. “I know I ask a lot sometimes, Ragnar. Keira won’t stop talking about you, obviously.”

Chucking, I admitted, “I still don’t know who seduced who in the end.”

“I don’t think it mattered once it happened. She’s certainly more accepting of my ideas when back in Vizima and around Foltest, at least. She doesn’t realise, of course. Thinks she’s doing the dirty behind my back.”

“I do feel a little bad about it.”

“You’re a good man at heart, Ragnar.” She paused before asking, “Do you like her?”

“If you mean ‘Do you like her naked and being inside her?’ then yes, I won’t deny enjoyment in that part. But she’s a little… eccentric, for my tastes.”

“Most sorceresses have their eccentricities, Ragnar. I have mine, after all.”

“Yours are cute and one of the reasons why I love you.”

She looked up, one of those dazzling smiles of hers immediately appearing. “Love you,” she whispered before kissing me, resting her head against me again as we rode along in silence.

The castle at Montecalvo eventually came into view, the home of Philippa Eilhart, the de facto leader of the Lodge of Sorceresses, as it had been her planning and vision that had led to the overthrow of the old Brotherhood. And as everyone would be meeting at her castle, it was a sign of her own power and influence over the Lodge. As we approached, I sensed a few nerves from Triss, wrapping an arm around her, and that alone seemed to calm her down.

Triss had already filled me in earlier on the details I needed. The sorceresses all knew who I was. I’d met most of them at one time or another. She knew my arrival with her would earn disapproval, but as I was her lover and also bodyguard, almost refusing to walk around without my presence at times, she would insist my presence was necessary. As I was completely non-political, I had no interest in any of their scheming anyway. They could do as they pleased, long as Triss wasn’t harmed.

It was late afternoon, dusk, by the time the carriage pulled into the courtyard of the small castle. Stewards were ready for our arrival, one stepping forward to open the door of mine, stepping down and rounding the carriage, opening the other door and assisting Triss down. Escorted through the main doors into the foyer, that is where we were greeted by Philippa Eilhart, with most other sorceresses already having arrived.

“Triss, delighted to see you,” Philippa stated, stepping forward to greet her, a kiss on either cheek. Then she added a whisper, “Triss, we agreed no men were to attend.”

“Philippa, this is Ragnar Dragonborn.”

To my amusement, the attitude changed immediately, her yellow-brown eyes looking me up and down, an approving smirk appearing on her lips. I’ll admit, there was something about her, not just her obvious beauty, that I found attractive. I adored ambitious, intelligent women. Add to that beauty, and I was a lost cause. I just… wanted them. Triss knew that too, which is how everything between us worked at moments like this. Otherwise, I was loyal to Triss, but with sex came influence and power. I was her pawn. I knew that.

Philippa offered her hand, which I brushed my lips again. “Delighted to meet you, Miss Eilhart.”

That made her chuckle. “Ah, this one is well trained at least, Triss.”

“Philippa, don’t mock him.”

“A mere jest, Triss. And Ragnar, I will admit I’m not the only one who has heard many stories about you.”

“Do you believe everything you hear, Miss Eil…”

“Philippa. Please, we are all on a first name basis here.” She stepped back and took a breath. “Now, as I said, none of us was expecting someone like you here.”

“Where Triss goes, I go. She is under my protection. She is powerful in her own right, but you mess with her, you mess with me. And I will not let anyone, and I mean _anyone_ , cause her harm.” I think half of them swooned then and there, because not only was there a subtle threat, but I made sure I let my tone know how much I cared for her. Philippa considered my words, but before she could say anything I added, “I am not here to interfere, Philippa. Can I be honest?”

“Of course. I’d prefer it.”

“I don’t care what schemes you might have on your mind, what plans you might create. You’re all talented, intelligent mages, and you have your own ideas and ambitions.” I shrugged. “Do what you wish. Just try not to make a mess of the power and influence you now wield. You denigrate men for being fools. Shit, part of me agrees with you considering I’ve seen men make the worst decisions possible more times than I could count. But you’ve only just gained this power for yourselves. Don’t let it go to your head. Not a warning. Just a friendly piece of advice.”

Philippa glanced at Triss. “Those words from him or you both?”

“Ragnar is his own man,” she replied, nothing but an innocent smile on her face, “I’m here because you invited me, and I choose to be here. But Ragnar is right about one thing. He is my bodyguard, for want of a better description.”

“And lover?”

“When he’s not my bodyguard.”

“You don’t trust us?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, Philippa. Ragnar… insisted on joining me. And I just can’t say no to those beautiful blue eyes when they’re pleading with me.”

Philippa met my eyes. Holding her gaze, I could see many others may have wilted under hers. I simply returned a grin. Like everyone, she did have to look up to meet mine. Then a slight grin of her own was returned, which surprised me. I’m sure even Triss didn’t expect it. “Will you be wishing to remain in the room while we discuss matters, Ragnar?”

I glanced at Triss. Her eyes said everything. “No. If Triss trusts you enough, I will do the same. I’m not here to step on any toes. Considering what you might be discussing, I offer you all the protection of the Dragonborn for the duration of the meeting.”

Now they all swooned. They didn’t need a man for their protection but they certainly appreciated the offer, noticing many of them had slowly but surely approach as we talked. Philippa smiled, thanked me for the offer, though didn’t state it was accepted, and before I knew it, I was being introduced to all the other mages. Most of them were utterly gorgeous. I knew some of them may have used magic to enhance their beauty, but I didn’t really care. And while I thought they were gorgeous, I received plenty of smiles, a few blushed when I took their hand and kissed it, and I was fairly sure there were one or two subtle offers immediately.

I ended up spending three nights at the castle with Triss, as they held a few large meetings, and a series of smaller meetings between old friends, colleagues and even allies. I found myself talking to all of them at one time or another. I was captivated by Francecsa Findabair, an elven woman who was absolutely stunning. One of the most beautiful women I’d ever met. We talked in private more than once, and she was free in sharing her life, the decisions she had taken, and what she planned for her own advancement. I generally listened in silence, just gazing at her face. A pair of beautiful blue eyes… I made her blush more than once, and I felt the need to apologise each time.

Didn’t sleep with her though. In the end, at that first true meeting of the Lodge, I didn’t sleep with anyone. I got to know them all, that’s for sure, but while there were subtle offers, I spent each night in the quarters I shared with Triss. If anything, I was left thinking that Philippa, despite her own apparent sexual desires, may have warned the rest off. Triss certainly suggested that on the second night as we lay in bed after having made love.

“I think she might just be a little interested,” Triss whispered.

“But I thought she preferred women?”

“She’ll see you as a pawn to use for her own ambitions. And she’ll use sex as a way of assuring your loyalty. Anyway, sexuality is fluid. She might claim to prefer women, but someone like you, Ragnar? They all want to sleep with you, I know that already.” Triss paused. “Would you have sex with her?”

“Yes,” I replied immediately.

Triss kissed my cheek. “Honest as always, Ragnar.”

“Can I be honest? I’d sleep with all of them here. Except Yennefer. Easy to figure out who she is, obviously.”

“If not Philippa…”

“Hmmm… if not you?” That made her giggle, giving me a gentle shove, before cuddling into my side again. “Francesca. Two reasons. One, she’s gorgeous. Two, she’s elven. There’s something about the elves of this world… Incredibly sexually attractive.”

“Do you want to know what’s been discussed?”

“Better you don’t tell me. Long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters to me.”

“We’ve already agreed to meet once every couple of months. Might not always be here. Might not always be in person. But now that we’ve all met in person, got to know each other a little, and agreed common goals, we know that staying in contact would be best.”

“I assume I’ll be joining you if it’s in person?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.”

That made her happy. So happy she soon straddled my lap, leaning down to kiss me, as her body slowly started to rock. The only movement I made was to caress her cheek, running my fingers through her red hair. Her eyes didn’t look away from mine the entire time. The love in them was… something I’d rarely seen from anyone before.

The only thing I could hope is that, with all the ambitions she and they had, and the machinations being put in place, that she would remain safe throughout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcome / appreciated as always, or if you enjoyed the chapter, leave some kudos if you'd like. Thanks.


	12. Bittersweet Reunion

I held up the looter by the collar. “Where is she?” I roared into his face.

The fear in his eyes would have made me laugh at any other time. “I swear I don’t know, sir. We just know she’s not here. So the house was easy pickings.”

I dragged him closer to my face. “Well when did she leave then?” I growled, “And who’s responsible for all this mess? Do I need to make an example of you and your friend here?”

“Ragnar, they’re just looters,” Geralt stated.

“She’s… she’s missing, Geralt.” Then I sighed and let the looter go, hearing his body slap back on the ground. “Go. Just… go. Get out of here.”

The two looters eventually got up. The one I had been holding helping up the other, who I’d knocked out. “Look… um… sir…” I met the eyes of the one I’d just been interrogating. “If you’re sorceress friend has managed to escape, try the Putrid Grove.”

I glanced at Geralt. “Never heard of it.”

“We only heard the name ourselves. Place of freaks and oddities.”

“How do I get there?”

The two looters shared a glance. Realising I might just start swinging again, they shared a nod. “Ask a beggar. Or spot yourself a thief, follow him... Beggars and thieves gotta pay tribute to the King of Beggars. Word is they do it in the Grove.”

“She must be in hiding, Ragnar. Only reason she’d be there instead of here,” Geralt stated.

“Temple Guard has been cracking down on everyone,” the looter added, “Mages are far game right now.”

“That’s right, and that’s the just start of what the Eternal Fire will eventually consume,” stated a voice, turning around to see the same man who’d led the burnings in the square approach, flanked by a pair of witch hunters. One of the looters stated the man approaching was called Menge. Name meant nothing to me. Before he talked to us, he had the looters arrested and taken towards the ‘confession chamber’. Even I didn’t like the sound of that, the two looters begging for mercy as they were hauled away by a pair of regular city guard.

Once we had privacy, Menge turned his attention to us. Or, to be accurate, Geralt. “You know a bat can sniff out a moth a mile away?”

“Got nothing to do with their sense of smell. It's about their hearing,” Geralt retorted, earning a smirk from yours truly. Loved it when he got sarcastic with people like Menge. I had him figured out already.

“Well, well... Man knows his bats. Here I thought you only cared about monsters. But I know your trade. Spotted those yellow eyes amidst the rabble in the square right away. Did you notice how much common folk love flames? The Eternal Fire will consume them all one day, one way or another.”

“You’re all fucking insane,” I stated, earning a withering glance from him.

“You, witcher, I will issue a warning. Novigrad is no place for your kind. Sooner or later, you will cause trouble. But times are different. The city is under my protection. Mine and the Eternal Fire’s.”

“What about me?” I asked.

“Don’t know who you are. But if you’re with him, no doubt you’re trouble too. So the same warning applies. Novigrad will soon only be home to righteous folk professing the one true faith in the Eternal Fire.”

“So you’re choosing to rule through fear with a slice of supposed religious fervour? Gotcha,” I stated.

“Nothing I can do to you now, but just know that I know you're here. One misstep, one error. You'll make a mistake, it's inevitable. I'll be the first to learn it. And when I do, it'll be standard procedure. Like for every other magic oddity who dares taint this city's air.” Smug bastard then just grinned at us. “Be seeing you.”

Once Menge and his guards disappeared, Geralt suggested we search the place for clues. I didn’t like going through her things but the urge to find her overwhelmed any other thoughts. I let him do his thing, though I certainly recognised more than one thing. The perfume she always wore. An amulet that Geralt sensed was magical. And also a particular necklace I’d given her so long ago now. I made sure to pocket that in the event someone else decided to turn up and take it.

We agreed to find the Putrid Grove immediately. Finding ourselves talking to beggar after beggar, some were lame, some were crazy, some were war veterans. Those I asked particular question, wondering if they were lying. Those I knew were not I gave more than one coin, shaking their hands, wishing them well. “You served?” they would ask quietly.

“Long live Temeria,” I would whisper back. More than one shed a tear as I took their hands in mine and wished them well. It wasn’t just their bodies that had broken. Many had lost their minds. All had lost their spirit. I knew I was one of the lucky ones having lived through the same as them.

But none of the beggars proved helpful, either too afraid to help, while others were surprisingly brave, suggesting the ‘King of Beggars’ could fuck off and do one. I’ll admit that Geralt and I both chuckled more than once, hearing a beggar puff himself up, all brave, when stating such ideas like the King shoving coppers up his arse, one at a time.

Giving up on the beggars, Geralt suggested we observe the square and look out for thieves. I knew he meant a pickpocket, as no doubt the market was full of them. We had been watching for all of twenty minutes when Geralt gave me the signal, following him as he followed the thief. He led us on a winding path, and I was soon feeling rather lost, keeping Geralt in sight as I knew he wouldn’t lose the thief, not with all his tracking skills and senses.

I swear the thief must have known, leading us on a circuitous route of Novigrad, but he eventually arrived at a door, knocking and whispering a few words, handing over a bag of coin, before he turned and disappeared. I let Geralt approach the door first, to use his usual charm to get us through.

Neither of us knew the password, so they demanded coin to enter. It wasn’t a surprise, and we certainly had coin to spare nowadays, so we handed over what the guard demanded before he finally opened up and let us in. Of course, as soon as we were inside, he demanded we hand over our weapons as well. Neither of us liked the idea of being anywhere unarmed, but particularly in such places where we didn’t know the lay of the land, nor who was inhabiting such land. But if we didn’t, we’d just be told to piss off, so we handed them over and pointed in the direction of the King of Beggars.

There was a smell about the place that certainly earned its name. And the desperation in the air was something else entirely. The King of Beggars may have made his home there, maybe, but there was nothing around to show that the tribute he took had contributed to a better life for anyone.

Walking inside the house, there was a bald man behind a desk and a red haired woman before him. I recognised the voice before she even turned around. I came to a stop, Geralt glancing back to look at my face. I… needed a moment to compose myself. Our presence was noted by the King, who Geralt announced as Francis Bedlam. No idea how they knew each other. Didn’t rightly care at that moment, my eyes only for one person in particular.

I had thought and even dreamed of our reunion. I was realistic enough to know it wouldn’t be like something people would hear in Dandelion’s sonnets. And while I wouldn’t say Triss was cold, she didn’t exactly come running up towards me as I slowly walked towards her. Instead, she turned and watched me walked towards her. I wanted to do… many, many things to her then and there. But when I leaned down to kiss her, she turned away. I stopped before I kissed her cheek.

“Oh…”

“Not the fairy tale you were hoping for, Ragnar?” Bedlam asked.

“Know who I am?”

He laughed. “Course I fucking do. Heard all about you from her, of course. But my people have been observing you and your white haired friend since you crossed the bridge.” He turned to Geralt. “I was wondering if you would track me down, witcher. Your lumbering oaf of a friend here does stand out a bit, though.”

Triss had turned away from me by now, so I took a few steps back and leaned against a wall, folding my arms and listened to the conversation. I picked up a few things that interested me as they conversed. Definitely a few things worth remembering for later. I had arrived simply hoping to find Triss, while helping Geralt find Ciri. But just like Velen, Novigrad was a mess of conspiracies, and I was already left feeling we were going to find ourselves involved in them.

“City Council is a puppet troupe with the hierarchy of the Church of the Eternal Fire as its puppeteer. Until recently, that is, when Radovid and his witch hunters took the reins. The semblance of power don't interest me.”

“Hang on,” I said, “I thought this was still a ‘free city’?”

He laughed at me for that, so that answered my question. I guess Radovid had enough influence that he didn’t need to actually fill the streets and walls with his soldiers. “One day the so-called free city of Novigrad will be truly free. But before that can happen, we gotta rid it of superstition. Farting around about the hallowed essence of the Eternal Fire. Nonsense for kiddies.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” I stated. I already had an intense dislike for the Eternal Fire, my night with Tamara notwithstanding. But she was young and impressionable. I just hoped she would eventually see sense. I had a feeling anything I would have said during our night together would have fallen on deaf ears. So I just enjoyed a night with a beautiful young woman and truly wished her happiness after all she’d been through.

“Crowd in the square seemed to agree with every word Menge said,” Geralt retorted.

“Any crowd of rabble'll cheer to the stench of burning flesh. But one day folks'll understand the Eternal Fire's naught but a leash around their necks. They call this place the Putrid Grove. But it's the rest of Novigrad that's putrefied. This here's the last bastion of normality, sanity, reason.”

I didn’t quite believe that, but anyone willing to stand up to Menge, the Eternal Fire, and by extension, Radovid, might prove to be a worthy ally. Bedlam continued to talk about his grand vision and ideas for Novigrad, and his hatred for the Eternal Fire was obvious. The man was a criminal to the bone, but I was left thinking he was like the baron. In it for himself, but he wouldn’t leave piles of bodies in his wake to achieve his aims. Like always, no black or white, just differing shades of grey.

We were eventually dismissed by Bedlam, Triss turning and walking by me with nary a word. I followed her immediately, gently grabbing her by the wrist and turned her to face me. “Triss…”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” she whispered. Lifting her chin with a finger, her eyes glistened. “Definitely not like this.”

“We went to your home,” I said softly, “You weren’t there.”

“And you naturally worried.”

“I should never…”

“I needed time, Ragnar. After everything I put you through…”

“You never had me do anything I didn’t agree to.” I paused and asked. “What happened?”

“Any idea of starting a new life went up in flames. I think that’s a rather apt way of describing it.” She glanced to my side. “Good to see you, Geralt.”

“You too, Triss. Do you two need some time?”

I wanted to hug her, but had a feeling she’d push me away. So I removed my finger and stepped back. Now was not the time for the reunion we may have both dreamed about. “I have things to do. Life isn’t easy here for anyone, particularly mages, so I do what I can to make ends meet.” She looked back at me. “You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like.”

“Before you go, one questions, Triss. Have you see Ciri?”

I did enjoy seeing Triss flummoxed. She was rather cute when caught by surprise. “What? Ciri? Here? When? Why?”

I couldn’t help chuckle. “I take it that’s a no, you haven’t seen her?”

“Of course not, Geralt. If I had seen her, I would certainly tell you.”

“Rumours were that she headed in this direction. We’ve just spent weeks in Velen on her trail. All signs pointed to her crossing the Pontar and making her way to Novigrad. Rumour was she was coming to see you. But if you haven’t, then she’s been waylaid or something else.”

“You know I’ll help however I can when it comes to Ciri. But… I have my own commitments first.”

“I think you need to do that and speak to him,” Geralt gestured towards me, “So I’m going to have a wander, look for signs, hopefully find an old friend or two. Ragnar, the Kingfisher Inn on Hierarch Square. I’ll take a room there. If you return and I’m not there, either wait for me or use that xenovox we both still have.”

Once outside, Geralt headed off in the opposite direction. No idea what he planned to do, but considering he was getting a little desperate to find Ciri, for which I didn’t blame him one bit, I knew he’d use all his considerable skill and wits to find at least something. As for myself, I stayed by Triss. She was still completely standoffish, but at least we talked. She was… miserable, I knew that much already. And she was afraid. Triss was rarely afraid, but there was no missing the fact she was terrified of what was happening to her fellow mages. And there was no doubt she thought the jaws of the trap were enclosing on her, slowly but surely. I would have offered my usual words of protection, but I had a feeling… it just wasn’t the same…

What I knew is that she wasn’t blaming me for a second, which left me with a real sense of relief. But our last parting had not been a happy one, and though we still loved each other more than anything, it had been a long and difficult half a year for both of us. So I figured little gestures of how much I still loved her would help. Such as retrieving a package of goods she had ordered that had been thrown in the river. Diving into the dirty, ice cold water wasn’t something I’d normally do, but the smile I received when returning with said package was worth it.

She finally relaxed, slightly, and we discussed the situation, at least in Novigrad. After what happened at Loc Muinne, mages had apparently fled to the seven winds, but many had come to Novigrad in the hope of safety and security. Obviously, that was proven wrong. Slowly but surely, the influence of the Eternal Fire had spread, as had the claws of Radovid and his supporters. Despite being a free city, the influence of Redania was pervasive.

I finally understood just how bad things were for Triss when we approached a warehouse near the fish market. A man, introducing himself as Brandon, had hired Triss to clear out a rat infestation. Triss couldn’t meet my eyes as they discussed the details of the job. Only when I realised there was a good chance of her getting fleeced did I speak. “Half now, half when the job is done,” I demanded.

“Ragnar!” Triss hissed.

“Look, you’re who you are. He knows this. And I bet he’d love to have the job done for free. So, half now, or we walk.”

Brandon was smart, handing me a small bag of coin that I gave to Triss before we handed inside. She tried her best to remain ‘angry’ with me, but when she did finally look at me, she returned a slight smile at least. “Thank you. Hard to trust anyone nowadays, and considering my circumstances…”

“Hate to see you taken advantage of, Triss.”

“Yet I…”

“Let’s set the traps and talk about it all later.”

“Okay. Look for evidence of rats. You know, droppings or holes where they might slide in.”

It wasn’t a particularly difficult job, and once the incense was in place, Triss and I gathered near the entrance. Now that we had a moment of privacy, we sat down on a crate. Resting an arm around her waist, she immediately cuddled into me. I sighed with relief, and didn’t dare look down for a few seconds. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Not your fault. We had to do what we did. Missed you like crazy though.”

“Bet you haven’t been alone the entire time though,” she retorted, thankfully with plenty of humour.

“I haven’t. Thought of you all the time… when I was alone.”

“Quite the fall from grace, isn’t it? Advisor to King Foltest, one of the most important if not respected women in Temeria. Now resorting to catching rats in a granary.”

I lifted her face to meet mine, finger under the chin again. “I just wanted to see you again,” I said softly, before I caressed her cheek. When her eyes closed, and that slight smile appeared, that I had seen nearly every day for years, I knew everything was going to be okay in the end. As we looked at each other, we heard the rats start to flee the granary, not that either of us really cared in that moment. I would have picked her up and carried her… anywhere away from Novigrad. I would have asked, if not demanded the Divines themselves take me home as long as she was with me.

“Well, well... Our lovebirds having themselves a chat instead of working?”

I glanced to see Brandon walk in. And I knew what was going to happen next, as a trio of witch hunters appeared through the same doorway second later. “Ragnar, they’re…”

I stood up and liked the gulp Brandon made as he was no doubt immediately reassessing some the choices he’d made in his life up to that moment. “I know exactly who fuckwits like these are, Triss. Already dealt with one too many for my liking.”

Brandon found his voice. Even a little bravery. “My friends begged me to notify them if I encountered a mage, sorceress, what have you. Didn't have the heart to refuse...”

I unsheathed my sword, though kept the tip pointed down for now. “Now, now. Looks like your friends are a little late to the party. Rats are gone. Job’s complete. So what you’re going to do is hand over the coin owed to us. Then your three witch hunter friends are going to stand aside and let us walk out.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Well, it will go something like this. I ignore you, as you’re not worth my blade. So what I do is go for that big fucker in the middle. A flame spell, just enough to put him on the back foot. Within the next second, I put my sword through his gut. Triss, meanwhile, will be wielding her own flame spells, but she’ll be smart enough to stay back while my sword gets bloody.”

“Of course, Ragnar,” she added, no doubt wanting to laugh.

“Next is dipshit number one to the big fuckers right. I’m thinking a cut from hip to shoulder. But any sort of cut will do. Then it’s dipshit number two to the left. I’ll just stick my sword through him and be done, and I’ll forget all about them within the next five seconds.” I looked back at Brandon. “Still refusing to give us the coin?”

Brandon was smart enough to get out of the way as I leapt into action. Happened pretty much how I envisioned. Big fucker went down first. Didn’t cut the second from hip to shoulder. Timed it just right to cut his throat instead. Third was being distracted by Triss and her flames, so I cut him from hip to shoulder instead. I made sure I finished the three off before I turned back to Triss. I must have had that look in my eyes she’d only seen a few times, her hand immediately finding my left.

“Easy, Ragnar. They’re dead now,” she said softly.

“Where is he?” I growled.

“Fled outside.”

The idiot no doubt expected to see the witch hunters. When he saw me walked towards him, bloodied sword in hand. I have a feeling he might have almost pissed himself. He held up both hands, then collapsed to his knees, begging for mercy. I’d seen too many supposed big, brave men do that recently. I knocked off his hat and grabbed him by the hair, enjoying the cry as I put the blade of my sword to his throat. “Please don’t,” he whimpered.

“Why? What has she ever done to you? She was doing you a favour, and this is how you repay her? Is that what I’m to expect from the people of Novigrad?”

“Kill him, Ragnar, and you’ll have the witch hunters and the guard on you. He’s not worth it.”

I made sure he felt the sting of the blade, enough to break skin and earn blood. “That is how close you have come to death today,” I growled. “But you do owe us coin. But you’ll give her all the coin you have on you.” He didn’t move a muscle. “Now!” I barked.

Triss soon found more than one little pouch of coin in her hands before I grabbed him by the collar again. “I never forget a face or the name of those who crossed me. Trust me on this one, Brandon. I even hear a rumour of you taking advantage of someone again, rest assured I will be knocking on your door.” I let him go. “Now fuck off before I change my mind.”

He turned and ran, not daring to look back, and he disappeared within a few seconds, turning back to look at Triss with a grin on my face. “You just did that amuse yourself?”

“And maybe to impress you too.”

“Ragnar, no need to do that. Just you walking into a room…” She stepped forward, ran a hand up my arm before she ran it up my cheek, the look in her eyes now one I remembered, one I saw every time I closed my eyes… It got to me. It really did. So she wrapped her arms around me, as much as I did her. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Fucking love you too,” I whispered back.

She leaned back just enough so that I could kiss her. Gods, that was just the tonic, moulding her body into mine as she giggled, as, let’s be honest, I was rather excited to see her. But it was just good to kiss her again, and when I finally slid my tongue into her mouth, her eyes opened wide and I definitely enjoyed the look in them, particularly when she released a little moan.

“Get a room, you two,” an old lady stated as she passed by, causing us to split apart, her giggling as I chuckled.

“Yes, ma’am,” I stated.

She took me by the hand and suggested we head to the Kingfisher. She lifted her hood again to hide her face, something I hadn’t liked for a moment, as it hid her hair. The colour was always so vibrant, and she knew it was something I adored about her. But when needs must and everything…

Torches were being lit by the time we entered the main square, and thankfully Geralt was inside enjoying a tankard, waving us over as soon as he saw us. Noticing the hand holding, all he asked was, “All is well?”

“Always was, Geralt,” Triss replied, “It’s just been a difficult six months. And Ragnar returning wasn’t something I was ready for.” But then she cuddled into my side as a tankard of ale and glass of wine was placed in front of us. “Anyway, I’ve had time to think about your problem, Geralt, and there is someone who might be able to help you.”

He leaned forward, eager for any sort of news. “Who?”

“There's an oneiromancer in town -- Corinne Tilly. Very capable, supposedly.”

“A what-what?” I asked.

Triss giggled as Geralt answered for her. “A dreamer, Ragnar. Um… I’m not sure how I can explain it simply enough for you to understand.”

“Thanks, Geralt,” I replied, a little sarcastically.

He held up a hand. “Okay, okay, don’t get your knickers in a twist. So she’s a dreamer, right? Basically, someone like this Corinne would fall into a deep sleep and they can read the future and the past. It’s not been something I’ve ever done myself, and I will admit I’m a little sceptical of their abilities.”

“But it is worthwhile investigating, Geralt?”

“I will right away. Where is she?”

“Follow the canal, away from the fish market. The house is near the first bridge. Its owner, de Jonkheer, is a rich banker.”

“Okay, I’ll head there now. Ragnar, you will remain here?”

I glanced down at Triss and she answered my question. “I’ll see you in the morning, Geralt.”

Geralt disappeared as Triss barely moved, sipping her wine but otherwise cuddling into me. I ordered us a little food and another drink before I needed to think about where I would spend the night. That’s when Triss did finally say something. “I live in a place called The Bits. The people who have taken me in… um, I’m not allowed…”

“Triss, you are staying nowhere except with me tonight.”

She giggled, leaning up to my ear. “Do you have plans for me, Dragonborn?” she breathed. I just turned and looked at her. She definitely liked it as she practically smouldered herself. “God, I love it when you look at me like that,” she murmured.

Once I’d organised a room, I took her by the hand and led her upstairs. Soon as the door was shut and locked, I made sure I removed her coat so that bloody hood was off her. Then I hugged her, running my hands through her hair, and she seemed to just love the fact I held her once again. And now that we had complete privacy, that’s when she finally let the walls down, feeling her shudder as I tightened my arms around her.

“Safe now,” I whispered.

“It’s been horrible, Ragnar,” she whispered, hearing her choke back a little sob. “I need your help. We need your help. I need the Dragonborn.”

“Whatever you need. Want me to kill Radovid? I think he’s the bastard responsible for all this madness.”

“Not that. I’ll ask tomorrow.” She looked up, and used a thumb to gently dry her cheeks. It was a rare thing that Triss Merigold allowed herself to cry, but I knew I was the only one who saw it nowadays. “Six months,” she whispered.

“I know.”

She obviously knew why we were both there. Kissing her again, we may have felt an urgency to undress each other, but we seemed to come to a silent agreement. I would remove an article of her clothing, she would remove an article of mine. Boots were kicked off. My weapons were already on the ground. When down to our underwear, I had to step back and appreciate it with a whistle.

“I may not be doing great but a girl needs to treat herself to at least one or two things.”

“Wow,” I whispered, “I like the blue.”

“I thought you preferred red?” she teased.

“You could be wearing a sack… but I much prefer what I’m seeing now.”

What surprised me was that she stepped forward to kiss me, slowly moving down my chest, no doubt feeling a few new scars that she would ask about later, before her fingers found the band of my underwear, pulling them down to reveal my very stiff cock. She smiled upon seeing it as her delicate fingers caressed my shaft as she sat on her knees. “Bet you’re loving this sight already.”

“That’s for damned sure. It’s been a while.”

“When did I last suck your cock, Ragnar?”

“Loc Muinne. Definitely there.”

She ran a tongue up my shaft and I couldn’t help groan. “Not going to last long, are you?” I didn’t trust my voice so just shook my head. “Ragnar?” I looked down to meet her eyes. “When you’re ready to cum, you don’t need to tell me. I love making you cum with my mouth.”

Gods, I loved her, and when I watched my cock slowly disappear into her mouth, I released another loud groan, but I dared not look away. I wanted to watch every second of it, even if it meant I came within a couple of minutes. Running my hand around the back of her head, that made her eyes light up as her head start to bob up and down. I moaned more than once. Hell, I moaned a lot. And she seemed to enjoy herself because she knew I was loving every second of it.

“Fucking love you,” I whispered. The smile that appeared in her eyes then…

I didn’t last that long. I would have loved to have lasted an hour, happily standing there as Triss Merigold pleasured me, and she knew I was definitely going to pleasure her in return, once I’d caught my breath. Her head started to bob up and down faster and faster as she could sense I was getting rather excited, and when my fingers gripped her hair a little tighter, not moving otherwise, she knew that was the signal.

“Gods,” I groaned, feeling my hips buck involuntarily as I groaned again and felt the first surge of cum erupt. Triss was ready for it, almost giggling as it would have hit the back of her throat, head still bobbing up and down as I immediately felt a little light headed, knees a little weak, as I found myself rather empty a few seconds later. Sucking in one deep breath after the other, Triss finally removed her mouth, licking up and down my shaft a few times before she sat back on her knees.

“Yummy,” she stated with humour. I immediately lifted her up, kissed and hugged her, making her laugh. “You always get emotional after one of my blowjobs, Ragnar.” She kissed my cheek before whispered, “Fucking love you too, by the way.”

“That was… something else…”

“I’d have kept doing that all night, Ragnar. Love the look on your face when I’m on my knees, and love those noises when I make you cum.”

“Definitely returning the favour.”

She took my right hand and slowly led it down her body to touch between her legs. Feeling how wet she already was, I made her gasp when I gave her a light fondle. “I haven’t been with anyone since,” she whispered. My face definitely fell, so she caressed my cheek. “Ragnar, you know I’ve never minded. When I’m not with you, I definitely understand. Truth be told, if I’m not with you, I’d rather have fun with women. Any man would be compared otherwise and I’d probably not enjoy it.”

“So no female lovers?”

“I’ve been attracted to a couple, at least in the sense of wanting something carefree and physical, but considering everything, I thought it best to remain alone.”

I hugged her to my body again, caressing her back as we resumed our soft kissing, eventually walking her back to the bed, lying her down as I joined her. Feeling her legs against my sides, I teased her to start to start with, running my cock against her slit, and I think she would have been rather happy for me to just slide it inside her.

But I wanted, needed to taste her first. She knew how much I loved doing it. I gave her body so much attention first, though, by the time I was ready to finally start, she was whimpering and pleading with me to eat her out. I made have given those perfect breast of hers a little attention to start, enjoying how hard her nipples got as I sucked at them. She loved the light squeezes I gave them, covering all the skin with my kisses.

Down her soft body, more kisses were left, enjoying the light moans released, the way her body reacted, and her scent alone as I got closer simply turned me on even more. I didn’t tease too much though, eventually lowering my tongue, running it slowly up her slit, earning a louder moan, feeling her body almost press down, eager for more.

Gently spreading her legs nice and wide, I lowered my mouth and simply savoured her taste. She was incredibly turned on and very wet. I murmured I could do it all night immediately, making her giggle, hearing her whisper that it sounded like a great idea. Her body immediately reacted positively to everything I did, my tongue plunging her depths, and she was soon writhing at everything I was doing. Once I started to tease her clit, that was it. I knew Triss Merigold well enough to know that was going to provoke one hell of an orgasm that had been building as soon as I had her on her back.

“Ragnar, please,” she whimpered.

I knew what she wanted then. Stimulating her clit would be enough, but to make it even better, she wanted something else. Wetting a couple of fingers, I slid those invoke, provoking a loud gasp, soon sliding those inside and out gently, and I knew exactly what to do, where to touch. The day I forgot how to bring Triss Merigold to orgasm would the day you might as well just throw my body in a ditch and burn it.

“Just there, Ragnar, just there,” she cried quietly.

And then she had an orgasm. It was a good one, feeling her squeeze my fingers tightly, her back arching, fingers gripping the sheets tightly, crying out quietly as I didn’t stop anything, and wouldn’t until she asked me to. Instead, bringing her to orgasm simply encouraged me to keep going. I’d enjoyed entire nights between her legs like this, making her cum over and over until she practically passed out.

“Yes, Ragnar,” she stated, “Keep going, please.”

So I did just that. No idea how long I did. My shoulder did eventually get a little sore, so had to adjust my position, and my jaw may have started to ache quietly, but it was obvious how much Triss wanted and needed what I was doing. And she knew how much I loved doing it anyway. She eventually lifted her head up enough to watch me, meeting my eyes and smiling. “Want to make love?” I nodded so she added, “One more then.”

She did need a few moments after the next one, soft kisses back up her body before I lay on my side next to her, running my fingers up and down her body between her breasts and the trimmed hair above her pussy. She would shudder every so often, both of us chuckling. “You’ve had practice,” she said with humour.

“I’ll tell you about them afterwards, if you really want to hear.”

“No details but I do like to know who you did think worthy of that cock of yours.” I laughed out loud as she turned onto her side, hand running down my chest to caress said cock. “Only those most deserving get to fuck the Dragonborn, I remember.”

I rolled her onto her back and easily slid inside her, watching her face light up as I buried myself. Her fingers soon found themselves on my back, her legs once again bent back and resting against my sides. I started out nice and slow, leaning down to kiss her constantly, otherwise just watching her face and enjoying the feeling of being inside her. The Divines had blessed me with a few gift, and one had been a generous cock. It wasn’t ridiculous, and Dandelion had crafted a humorous poem about me, but when I slid it inside Triss, it was just… perfect, like we’d been moulded for each other.

As I increased my tempo, she started to gasp and moan, and I wasn’t a quiet lover. I could be a little vulgar when I wanted, but Triss loved it. Loved hearing how good her pussy felt, how warm it was, how tight it was. How much I loved fucking her. How I wanted to cum inside her, or pull out and cum on her breasts, or on her face. How I’d love to get her on her knees and fuck her arse. How I’d love to fuck her in the middle of the square for everyone to watch. Tie her up and tease her for hours. Any suggestion I could think of that I knew she would like or at least laugh at.

Feeling her ankles lock behind me, we shuffled enough to change the angle, making her moan even louder. “Fuck me!” she cried quietly.

So that’s what I did. The next few minutes, Triss Merigold was well and truly fucked by Ragnar Dragonborn. The headboard was slamming against the wall by then, the bed almost skipping across the room. I felt her fingernails digging into my back. She’d left one or two light scars over the years, though I loved it. A sign of how much she enjoyed being fucked at times. We loved the gentle and loving, but sometimes, we just wanted to _fuck_.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” I groaned.

“Fill me up, Ragnar!” she cried out, giggling away before I kissed her.

Gods, it was one hell of an orgasm, burying myself as I just unloaded, resting on my forearms as I’m sure a surge of cum filled her up, as she asked. I needed a few moments after that, feeling her arms and legs wrap around me, her soft kisses on my cheek. “Think we both needed that,” she whispered, “Ragnar’s big cock inside me again.” I met her eyes and chuckled. “Love my tight, little pussy, Ragnar?”

“You are such a tease, Triss.”

“Another reason why you love me.”

She gave me ten minutes before pushing me off onto my back, and that’s when I got the pleasure of watching Triss Merigold ride me. Goddess. Absolute goddess. Her face lit up with delight. Her breasts swaying as she either grinded herself or gently bounced. Hands at her hips to keep her balanced, though she soon grabbed my wrists, moving them to her breasts. “I know you love them, and I love your hands on them,” she’d whispered.

Triss was one of those fortunate women who could come on her back. I knew many women couldn’t, as it lacked the required sensations. But we’d figured out quickly that there was just something about her riding me that gave her even better orgasms than when eating her out. She insisted it was the fact we were joined, the physical and emotional link that made it mean even more. She rode me for what felt like hours, speeding up and slowing down, no doubt letting the approaching orgasm build up then back off, until she simply needed to release.

When she finally did, that’s when she needed to lie down on my chest, barely able to touch her as she was ultra-sensitive for quite a few minutes. When she was ready, she grabbed a hand and made sure it caressed her back, feeing her soft check on my chest. “Worth the wait,” she said quietly.

“Aye.”

We laid like that for a few minutes before getting to have a quick clean. Back under the covers, she would accept nothing else than being spooned against my body, my arms tightly holding her, and all felt right in our lives once again. Our circumstances were different, the room far different to that we’d shared for so long in Vizima, but it was something we always did after making love.

“Okay, tell me. Who have you bedded and what have you been up to?”

“Short version?”

“Short. I’d like to sleep soon too.”

“Okay. Fought for Temeria.” That earned a squeeze of my arms, lifting myself up as she turned to kiss me. “Thought you’d appreciate that. Obviously lost. Nearly died. Sure you saw the scar on my chest, near my heart?” She nodded. “Yeah, pretty close run thing.”

“What about between our parting and that?”

“Mercenary work mostly. Heard rumours of Geralt working further south, so made my way in his direction, but eventually ended up in Vizima again. Joined up and was shipped out.”

“Lady friends?”

“After we parted, I wasn’t really in the mood for much. Not to say there wasn’t the occasional working girl, purely physical as jerking off isn’t the same thing. It was only in White Orchard I made a connection. Herbalist by the name of Tomira. Sweet woman, nursed me back to health. Safe where she is away from Radovid’s witch hunters.”

“I don’t like Nilfgaard but Radovid just seems so much worse.”

“Anyway, that’s where I met Geralt. White Orchard. Also Yennefer turned up. Summoned to Vizima. Black Ones everywhere now. Gave Geralt and I a task to find Ciri. Yen knew you were here.”

“Haven’t heard from her but I guess those who need to know would figure out where I was.”

“Worked around Velen, mostly for someone called the Bloody Baron. Ran into an old friend in Velen. Kiera Metz.”

“Really? What was she doing there?”

“On the run like the rest of the Lodge. Obviously had no idea you were here. Frankly, she was even more terrified than you. Helped her out with a couple of things. She’s now on her way to Kaer Morhen to lay low.”

“Even larger fall from grace than myself if she was stuck in Velen.”

“She wasn’t enjoying it, that’s for sure. Used me to her advantage, obviously. I had my failings.”

Triss remained silent. “She used the red hair trick, didn’t she?”

“I am a stupidly simple man, Triss. I know that. So, Kiera departed as Geralt and I continued our search for Ciri. Eventually crossed Velen more times than I could count. Helped the Bloody Baron find his family. Found his daughter in Oxenfurt.”

I stopped and let her figure it out. She turned to look at me. “You didn’t!?” I just smiled. “Ragnar Dragonborn, how old was she?”

“Nineteen.” I paused but added, “Though she was a, you know, virgin.” That just made her burst into a fit of giggles, feeling her snuggle back against me. “Anyway, helped her and her father find her mother. Just a bad bit of business all around. Headed back to Crow’s Perch, took care of the ex-soldiers making their life a misery, then headed north to Novigrad.”

“And now you’re here,” she said softly.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, but I know the emperor has people everywhere, watching us. But you have my help regardless.”

“I suddenly feel a lot better about things, Ragnar. The fact you’re here.”

“Whatever you needed, you know I’ll do it.”

“We’ll discuss it in the morning with Geralt. You help me, we help him. With any luck, we can sort out a few of our problems together.”

That was a good idea. I wished her goodnight, she wished me goodnight, and I’m sure we must have drifted off together.


	13. The Searchers

Triss and I met Geralt downstairs the next morning. He wasn’t one to ask about personal details, and considering how we were acting with each other, he didn’t really need to put two and two together to figure out our relationship was already back on course. Once we had a plate of food in front of us, a mug of juice to wash it all down, Geralt explained his previous night.

He’d found Corinne Tilly without a problem. She was in the middle of a dream, in what the owner had thought was a haunted house, but Corinne was being teased by, of all things, a godling. She was innocent, and also lonely. Geralt let her remain in the house, of course. Man had a heart of gold at times, but when it came to children, even child-like creatures, he would do anything to help them out. As for Corinne, she offered to help him, following her to the Golden Sturgeon.

After being asked a series of rather personal questions about Ciri, and also his relationship with Ciri, he was asked to lie back, and he dreamed of Ciri, sort of, before he dreamed of Dandelion. That definitely grabbed the attention. I hadn’t seen the bard in a long time, Triss didn’t even know he was in town. “Where is he?” I asked.

“Apparently he is the new owner of the Rosemary and Thyme,” Geralt replied.

“That’s a brothel!” Triss exclaimed, before clearing her throat, “Um, anyway, Dandelion running a brothel perhaps isn’t a stretch of the imagination.”

“I assume we’re heading there?” I asked.

“Soon as you’ve finished eating and got yourself into your armour.”

I turned to Triss. “What about yourself?”

“I have my own things to sort out, Ragnar. But as you’re now here… I don’t plan on being back at The Bits as often, at least.”

Heading upstairs, I put on my armour, grabbed my weapons and small pack, Triss putting back on her grab, though she left the hood down long enough that I could caress her cheek once more, pulling her close so I could kiss her. She then pulled up her hood, hiding herself away from the world once again, as we headed downstairs, Geralt already waiting for us outside.

“I’ll be back tonight, Ragnar,” she said, “I have a feeling our paths might be crossing. Dandelion was in town and I had no idea. Why is that?”

“Maybe he wasn’t aware you were here?”

“Hmmm. Probable, I guess. I haven’t exactly advertised I’m here.” She kissed my cheek, wished us good luck, and she disappeared into the crowds.

Thankfully, Geralt had directions to the Rosemary and Thyme, so I just followed him. Curiosity did get the better of him in the end. Didn’t blame him, to be honest. I would inundate him with questions once Yennefer was back in his life, simply because I knew he was hopelessly in love with her but they spent far more time apart than together. “So how was it?” he asked.

“We talked a lot in addition to other activities that I won’t describe.”

“Tell her about the others?”

“Aye.”

“What did she say about that?”

“Nothing. Geralt, she’s understood since the very first day. You know what she asked of me from time to time. I did it willingly because, one, I fucking love her, and two, she knows I… you know…”

He glanced my way. “No, I don’t know, Ragnar. Spell it out for me.”

“Fuck off, Geralt,” I exclaimed with a chuckle. At least he grinned in return as he knew I was joking. We’d fallen out plenty of times but it had never turned physical, mostly because we knew, once gloves were thrown down, it wouldn’t end well. So we would share angry words then walk away to cool off.

Approaching the Rosemary and Thyme, all seemed quiet. Apparently this was the Red Light District of the city, so I assumed there must be another couple of brothels around. The only one I knew well was the Passiflora, but that was in a far nicer area of Novigrad than where we were.

Before we could even approach the entrance, and the place looked completely deserted, the door burst open, and a vagrant came tumbling towards it. I position myself so he bumped into my shoulder and fell to the ground. Two other people came tumbling out after him, another hitting me and then the ground, the third tripping over himself and hitting the deck.

Then a dwarf appeared in the doorway, someone both Geralt and I would have recognised immediately. “Next time I'll rip your fuckin' legs off and shove 'em up your arse till you've toes for teeth!” Then he looked our way and opened his arms. “Geralt! Ragnar! In the nick of time, as always!”

“Who the fuck are these clowns?” I wondered, picking one up and holding him by the collar, “Do I need to remove teeth? Some blood and bruises?”

“No, these fuckers just thought they could make themselves at home here. So now they’d be wise to fuck off and not come back.”

The man I was holding was full of fear now so I pulled him closer, though his breath was horrific. “Hear my short friend over there?”

“Who you callin’ short, the lumberin’…”

“Joke, Zoltan. Calm down.”

He muttered to himself as I looked back at the vagrant. “I would make you walk back in and clean up after yourselves, but my dwarven friend…”

“Much better, Ragnar.”

“Has asked you to kindly fuck off. So unless you want my sword shoved up your arse alongside your legs, I would suggest you make haste and fuck off.”

I let him go and the three vagrants scarpered rather quickly. Following Zoltan inside, he was surprised to see both of us, though we hadn’t seen him in years, so we were just as surprised to see him in Novigrad. Still, it was good to unite with another old friend, He found some ale for us to drink, a clean enough table for us to sit at, and we sat down, enjoying a morning beer, when he asked what had brought us there.

Geralt wasted no time explaining that we were looking for Ciri, and that caught Zoltan by surprise. Like many, he’d always had a soft spot for her, but his soft spot for her was larger than most. Wore his heart on his sleeve, despite his rough and tumble exterior. We explained what we’d discovered so far, our reunion in White Orchard the meeting with Emhyr, then the weeks in Velen investigating any rumour we’d had.

“Shit, you two have been busy then,” he muttered.

“Aye.

“So you haven’t seen her by any chance?” Geralt asked, no hope or expectation.

“Sorry, old friend. I haven’t seen her since… I’m not sure I’d even recognise her if she even did try and attempt contact.”

“Okay, we’ll leave that aside for now. I have a feeling the rumours of Ciri being here might not be true. What about Dandelion? I had no idea he was in Novigrad.”

“I don’t know either, Geralt. When he took over this tavern, he made contact with me, askin’ if I’d like to be involved. He has ideas, Geralt. Big fuckin’ great ideas. But I returned just this mornin’ to find the tavern full of those pricks I just kicked out.”

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered to himself.

“Okay, Ciri can just disappear but someone like Dandelion is bound to leave some sort of trail,” I suggested, “Though this place is a mess, surely there is something that will give us a clue.”

The three of us had a good look around. What became obvious to Geralt and I is that Dandelion seemed to be taking the tavern business quite seriously. It was obvious he aimed to turn it away from being a brothel, though whether he wanted just an ordinary tavern or something closer to his heart remained to be seen. He’d certainly spent plenty of his own coin, though.

Geralt eventually found a ledger that listed everything Dandelion had been spending, his incomings and outgoings, the type of purchases he had been making, and of course there was also a private list, which had the three of us chuckling away, as there was a list of obviously women who Dandelion had been courting.

“Still not sure who is worse,” Zoltan stated, giving me a sideways glance.

“Recognise anyone on the list?” I asked Geralt.

“Why don’t we take a few names each?”

“Something you and Ragnar can handle, Geralt? I wouldn’t mind getting this place in some sort of order.”

“Sure thing. Ragnar, you take half, I’ll take the other?” I nodded, and he handed me a sheet of paper. The very first name had my eyes widen in surprise. “Rosa var Attre? He was ploughing the… wife? Daughter of the Nilfgaardian ambassador?” I glanced at Zoltan. “So we’re going to find him with his bollocks missing, right?”

“It’s a long story, Ragnar. She might just be right up your alley, though. Apparently prefers a sword above everything else.” Before I could retort, he raised a hand. “Don’t be uncouth. I mean the sort of sword…” He sighed. “You know what, I know for a fact there is no way I can complete that sentence without you making a crude joke.”

I grinned at him and looked at the rest of the list. “Molly. Who is that?”

“Chambermaid for the Baroness la Valette.”

I raised eyebrows at that. “Hang on, are you talking about Foltest’s one-time mistress?”

“The same one.”

“Holy shit,” I muttered, “That’s not good.”

“Why not?” Geralt asked carefully.

I just gave them both a look. Zoltan burst into laughter. “Ragnar, are you seriously suggesting you fucked King Foltest’s mistress?” the dwarf asked through his chuckles.

“She seduced me!” I stated, then I grinned, “Well, I was never going to say no. I won’t say it was Triss who suggested it, sleeping with her that is, but she knew I could earn her ear and suggest certain things that would certainly find their way to the ears of Foltest.”

“Ragnar, who the fuck have you not slept with?” Zoltan asked.

“Yennefer.” I cast Geralt a quick glance and grinned. “I think she’d take my balls if I even suggested such a thing. And then there is what Geralt would do to me. Honestly, I generally avoid married women and whatnot but… Triss suggested, if she were to seduce me, to let it happen. So I let it happen.”

“She really did use you to her advantage?”

“Willingly,” I stated happily, “And I’d do it all again too. She didn’t use me. I happily assisted her in regards to her objectives.”

“You really love her, don’t you?” Zoltan asked, seeing the knowing grin form.

“I told her I’d marry her in a heartbeat and commit completely and utterly to her. But it’s never been the right time.”

“Who’s the last name?” Geralt asked.

“Marabella.”

“She’s a school teacher, Ragnar. Nearby. I can give you…” The thought of kids… I didn’t need that reminder. Geralt didn’t either. Zoltan recognised our faces immediately. “Something I said?”

I waved away his concerns. “We’ll tell you later. Right, Geralt, meet you back here or elsewhere?”

“Depending on how long it takes for you to do all this. I’ll drop back between her and the Kingfisher.”

Thankfully, in addition to all the flowery words Dandelion had written about his lovers, he also listed the address and directions to each of them. Marabella was the closest, so I headed off to see her first. The area around the school was effectively a slum and, approaching the schoolhouse, it was obvious that everyone who resided in the area was poor. The building itself was dilapidated, but it certainly looked like needed a bit of TLC.

The door was open so I headed inside, a lone teacher in front of around a dozen or so children. She looked up, noticing my approach. She probably thought I was there for some other reason. “Who are you?”

“Apologies, I’m looking for someone by the name of Marabella.”

“I am she. Wait outside, please. Class is still in session.”

“Of course.”

I only had to wait an hour or so, occasionally listening into the lesson inside, but spending most of my time sharpening my blade. The lesson finally ended, the kids running by shouting and screaming, an argument and a fight eventually breaking out, Marabella storming out, telling them to stop and go home. She then turned and noticed I was waiting, no doubt having forgotten I existed, though she politely invited me inside.

She didn’t have much information for me. The affair she’d had with Dandelion had been brief but passionate, like most I was aware of, but had fizzled quickly. Apparently their last meeting had occurred recently, though he had spent the entire afternoon reading a booked titled the _Illustrated Guide to Fungi_.

“Why was he reading that?” I wondered.

Marabella shrugged. “No idea. I certainly had no interest in it. And that was when I realised he’d lost any real interest in me. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Any idea what he was up to?”

“We didn’t really discuss his private life.”

Realising I wasn’t going to get much out of her, I thanked her for taking the time to talk to me, heading outside and checking the other two names I had. “Hmmm. Not sure I’ll go see the baroness today. Rosa var Attre might be a little safer.”

I didn’t know how wrong I was until sometime later. Finding the var Attre residence wasn’t particularly difficult as it was the home of the Nilfgaardian ambassador. Thankfully, Zoltan had given a hint as to her interests, so when questioned by the guards posted outside as to my intention, I suggested I was the new instructor.

The guard captain waved me forward, following him into the house. “Hope you realise what you've gotten yourself into.”

“What do you mean?” I wondered as we headed downstairs.

“Miss Rosa's got a downright beastly temper. Shows no mercy once she grips a sword. Grab a wooden one. And take care not to hurt the little miss, or you'll earn the ambassador's ire.”

We ended up in what can only be called a training arena, and that’s where I was introduced to Rosa var Attre. And I was immediately reminded of Tamara, though only in that she was young and rather attractive. She certainly seemed to approve of me immediately. “You're my new instructor? Well, well, papa clearly went out of his way this time. Wood to start with. I must know your worth.”

I glanced at the guard captain, who simply shrugged and made his way upstairs, as I looked at Rosa and grinned. “Wood, you say?”

I shrugged off my chest armour, placing my sword and shield on the ground, before I picked up a wooden sword. It was incredibly light as I walked towards the centre of the room. “Sure about this?”

“Scared of hitting a woman?”

“No. But I am concerned about hitting the _ambassador’s_ daughter.”

She scoffed. “You have to hit me first.” Then she strode forward, intent on striking me. I parried her first few swings, and I’ll admit, she had talent. More than most idiots I fought. I didn’t exactly want to get stuck in a long fight with her, so took to hitting her with the flat of my blade whenever given the opportunity, including a couple of taps on that rather tight little butt of hers, which made her chuckle and blush at the same time. Of course, doing that also riled her a little bit, and disarming her ended up being rather easy as her technique went out the window.

Picking up the blade on the ground, I handed it over. “You’ve got some talent, at least,” I offered.

She nodded. “Well fought,” she replied, taking in a deep breath, “You're much better than the last one.”

“Look, Rosa. I’m going to level with here. I’m not your new instructor.”

She was immediately suspicious, of course, though seemed willing to hear me out. “If you’re not, who are you?”

I offered my hand. “My friends called me Ragnar. Others call me the Dragonborn.”

“The Dragonborn! I know who you are. Or at least I’ve heard about you from Dandelion. Yes, plenty of stories about the dragon and the wolf.”

“Huh, even made its way to Nilfgaard, I see.”

“So why are you here, Ragnar?”

“I’m looking for Dandelion. I understand he was a tutor of yours.”

That made her laugh. “Tutor? Good one. That is why papa hired him, but not at all what the bard had in mind. He mostly played his lute and sang for us. I believe he thought he was wooing...”

The disdain in her tone was a surprise. “So he wasn’t…? I assumed you had a relationship of some sort?”

“If you call him chasing after me a relationship... Even so, there was nothing between us. Seems my sister's had a bit of fun at our expense.”

She stepped forward, sword dangling at her side. I knew the look well. “Well, if you're not an instructor, you should certainly be one. Fancy giving me a few private lessons?”

The urge to be completely and utterly crude nearly overwhelmed me. So I just grinned and agreed. That seemed please her, taking my sword and putting them back in the rack when I heard footsteps come down the stairs, greeted by a woman who was an absolute dead ringer for Rosa.

“What are you two lovebirds whispering about?” she asked.

“You asked about my relationship with Dandelion? Well, here's the mix-up's mastermind: Edna var Attre, the greatest mischief-maker north or south of the Yaruga!”

“So you’re twins…” Then I gave it a moment of thought and laughed. “Ah, I can already see what’s going on here. Edna has played Dandelion like a fool, no doubt confusing him, making him think she is you, right?”

Rosa raised her eyebrows but grinned. “Well, there are some brains behind those beautiful blue eyes of yours, Ragnar. That’s exactly what happened.”

“Okay, I don’t particularly want to find myself in the middle of a quarrel here, so a simple question. Have either of you seen Dandelion lately?”

“Edna might have. I certainly have not.”

“My dear sister, I would never spend time alone with the man for whom you burn with a secret passion.”

Rosa practically growled, and I think was ready to charge forward and give her sister a smack. “Burn with passion? For one who incessantly praises another woman's talents? Afraid I've more sense than that!”

Before the argument really took off, I simply asked who he praised and what else they might assume he was up to. They could only give me the name ‘Callonetta’, a poetress that was meant to be immensely talented. As for acting strangely, the only thing either could really mentioned was a visit to a graveyard and asking questions about someone called Margrave Henckel. No idea who that was either. But it was more information I had than before entering. I almost didn’t think going to speak to Molly was worthwhile, but I figured questioning everyone was a good idea.

Edna thankfully disappeared as I put my armour back on, Rosa certainly showing more interest in me than she likely ever showed in Dandelion. “Did you fight in the war?” she asked.

“Aye. For Temeria.”

“Ah… That did not end well for you.”

“I lived. Many of my fellow men didn’t. Could have been a hell of a lot worse.”

“What do you think of Nilfgaard?”

“I’d rather your people didn’t stream north, conquering kingdom after kingdom. But I’ve learned that many of your people in uniform are just like me. People earning a living, fighting for causes we believe in, or simply fighting to put food on the table.” I leaned back against the wall and crossed my arms. “Met your father in Vizima. He was surprisingly honest about your position.”

“Father has to be cautious in his role.”

“What about you, Rosa? Why are you here?”

“I ask the same question often, Ragnar. Life here is boring. My friends are not here. And I detest attending parties and other events on behalf of my father. It’s why I have taken up interests such as swordplay. It keeps me occupied. I would like to escape this house more often, but the guards… they barely let us out of the grounds.”

“Nilfgaard isn’t popular in these parts, Rosa. Though Novigrad is a free city, it’s technically still part of Redania, and a lot of people would happily welcome you in a manner you wouldn’t like.”

She chewed on that and nodded. “Wise words, Ragnar. I do hate being treated like a child, though.”

“Not a child. The daughter of an important figure within the Nilfgaardian nobility. Unfortunately for yourself, it does come with certainly expectations. You have privilege, but you also have to put up with constraints on your liberty.”

That made her smile at me again. “Certainly more intelligent than you look.”

“Backhanded compliment, but I’ll take it.”

She led me upstairs towards the front door. Before opening it, she asked, “So were you serious about another lesson?”

“I’ll admit there is perhaps another reason why I’d like to return in addition to a lesson.”

That definitely made her blush. Call me a sucker. Call me a fool. I’d tell Triss in a few minutes and she’d probably think it was a good idea. Sleep with the daughter of the ambassador, perhaps hear one or two bits of juicy gossip that might help me. “Are you seriously thinking of seducing the daughter of the Nilfgaardian ambassador, Ragnar?”

“Aye.”

A grin appeared in addition to the blush, opening the door as I stepped beyond the threshold. “Just introduce yourself as my instructor again when you return, Ragnar. I look forward to our next lesson.”

“So do I, Miss var Attre.” I bowed slightly. “Until next time.”

I’d spent longer at her residence than I realised as the stars were out and the torchers had been lit. I walked straight back towards the Kingfisher Inn, walking into the room I’d booked indefinitely to be greeted by Triss sitting at the desk, reading a book. She looked up and grinned as I walked across, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

After dropping everything I was carrying, I grabbed a chair and sat next to her, explaining the day I’d just had and also what I had agreed towards the end. She laughed when I told her about Rosa and our possible lessons. “She’s young and cute, Ragnar?”

“I don’t actually have a thing for younger women, just so you know.”

“I know, but from the sounds of it, you’re actually what she wants, a warrior, not some bard. No disrespect to Dandelion, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Information is power, Ragnar. So if you think it’s a worthwhile venture, then I say go for it. I won’t support Redania, not after what they’ve done to my people, but if it helps free Temeria…” She leaned over and kissed me. One hell of a kiss. “Pump her for information, Ragnar,” she whispered, giggling at the term she used, “If she’s heard things, no doubt she’ll be quite talkative once you make her cum a few times.”

“Now this is bringing back memories.”

She remained close to my face, her lips just about grazing mine. “Good memories, I hope? Maybe of all the women you’ve fucked? All those sorceresses you… pumped for information over the years?”

“Triss, you are… incorrigible at times.”

“I know.” She left a light kiss on my lips before turning to cuddle me. “Still think I used you,” she whispered.

“Never. Did so willingly every single time. Because, every time, I did it for you.”

She didn’t say anything to that, simply feeling her arms tighten around me, eventually picking her up with ease, that did earn a giggle, lying her down on the bed next to me. We were both half-asleep when there was a knock at the door, calling whoever it was to come in, no surprise to see Geralt come wandering in. I sat up immediately alongside Triss as he grabbed a chair and sat closer.

Discussing our findings, he’d had next to no luck. Vespula was… not happy with Dandelion, and apparently thought Geralt was responsible for his whoring. But she apparently heard of the same poetress Rosa had mentioned, so that was something in common. As for Elihal, the fact it turned out he was a cross-dressing elf was… a surprise. I didn’t make a big deal about it though. Dandelion was a little eccentric at times.

“So all that is left is Molly?” he asked.

“Aye.”

“Well, we might as well approach her tomorrow. Might make things easier for you.” He then glanced at Triss. “He told me about… er… Baroness La Valette.”

Triss smiled. “Surely it would come as no surprise that someone like Maria Louisa La Valette, who was married off to an extremely old man, would want to find comfort in the arms of a young, more virile man, Geralt?”

“Triss, is there a chance her children are actually his?” he asked, gesturing at me.

“No. Certainly not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because Ragnar worried about it, so… I made sure they were not his.”

“So… Foltest is the father?”

“Of course he is! Certainly wasn’t her husband. As if he could get it up to impregnate her by then.”

“So Anais?”

“Is the heir to the Temerian throne. As far as I know, she is still in the care of John Natalis. But where they both are, I wouldn’t have a clue, Geralt. No-one knows. The front line was chaos when it collapsed.”

“I was part of it,” I muttered.

“Okay, we’re getting a little off track here I guess. Ragnar, tomorrow we’ll approach Molly and see what she can tell us. After that… I’m not sure.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

“Going to grab dinner downstairs. Want to join me?”

“Sure.”

After dinner, Geralt said he was going to bunk at the Rosemary and Thyme for the time being, keep Zoltan company. I figured that meant watching the dwarf get blind rotten drunk, but I could also thank him for allowing Triss and I a little privacy for the evening. We did remain downstairs, nursing a tankard each, and listened to a little music before deciding to head upstairs.

Lying her back on the bed, the slight desperation of the previous night to be intimate had been replaced with a simple desire to make love. I was ready to use my mouth again, but she kept me in place, grabbing the base of my cock and guiding it inside her, watching the smile light up her face as I slowly buried myself.

We made love without sharing a word, relying on the noises, gestures and body language we shared instead. She knew when was I getting close, and only then did she whisper dirty thoughts into my ear, begging me to cum inside her as always. She loved the feeling, so did I, so it usually happened. After that, she surprised me by turning onto her knees. I was wondering for a moment, making her giggle, assuring me she didn’t want anal, at least not that night. She just wanted a good, hard fuck from behind.

Made her orgasm as I grabbed her by the hips and gave her just what she wanted, and once I came inside her again in that position, she wanted the old reliable of her riding me, and as I’d already cum twice by then, I lasted as long as she needed me to. By the time she was done riding me, her entire body glistened with sweat, her skin colour had taken on a rosy complexion, her hair was plastered to her forehead, she could barely catch her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. And the look in her eyes as they met mine, she leaned down the kiss me hard, begging for me to fuck her hard and cum inside her one last time.

Two minutes later, I was done in. Rolling off me, we burst into giggles together as she cuddled into my side, wrapping an arm around her, holding her tight, feeling her leg in between mine, being careful not to knee me in the balls. “Shit day, Ragnar. I needed that.”

“What’s going on?”

“A lot of things. Hard to explain. But it’s to do with helping people just like me, and all the others the Eternal Fire seem to enjoy attaching to pyres and burning.” She gave me a squeeze. “Was feeling rather isolated and lonely for a long time. When you walked into that house with Geralt by your side… I didn’t trust myself to even say a word, Ragnar.”

“It’s okay. We’re getting there. Six months apart is a long time for anyone.”

“How do Geralt and Yennefer do it?”

“Unique set of circumstances. But I think, at heart, they just truly love each other.”

After breakfast the next morning, we split up yet again, Triss heading off to do what she needed, while I headed off to meet Geralt. He was ready and waiting, immediately walking up to Gildorf. We both recognised the La Valette emblem on a shield located on the wall, and we approached the sentries on duty.

“Who are you?” they demanded to know.

“Geralt of Rivia. Ragnar Dragonborn,” Geralt replied.

“Do you know who lives here? The Baroness La Valette doesn’t consort with the local riff-raff. Begone the pair of you.”

“Look, we’re not here to see her. We’re here to see Molly,” I stated.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re here to see the Emperor of Nilfgaard himself. Fuck off.”

Neither Geralt or I wanted a fight, so we simply took a couple of steps back. Thankfully, before the sentries stepped forward and really tried to make us clear off, the doors behind opened and out stepped Maria Louisa La Valette and someone neither of us expected. “Morvran Voorhis?” Geralt muttered, “She’s keeping interesting company now.”

“Ragnar?” she asked, hearing the surprise in her tone.

I stepped forward and bowed before kissing her right cheek, closest to Morvran, then her left cheek. “I say nothing,” I whispered, leaning back enough to meet her eyes. I could see the relief in them as I offered my hand to Morvran. “No idea you were in the city, general.”

Geralt offered his hand to both as then general before getting straight to business, for which I was thankful. I doubt anyone except three, maybe four people knew what I’d shared with Maria Louisa, but I certainly didn’t want to tempt fate by either of us letting slip. “We’re looking for one of our chambermaids, Molly. Just a few questions about a matter we’re trying to resolve.”

“I'm afraid she's currently at the home of my dear friend, Patricia Vegelbud,” Maria Louisa replied.

“Perhaps you would both accompany us. They could speak with Molly at the races,” Morvran offered.

“Is that something you'd consider?” Maria Louisa asked, “Care to partake of some sophisticated diversion?”

Geralt and I shared a glance. I shrugged. Geralt nodded. “Sure. Sounds great.”

Gathering our horses where we’d left them, we accompanied the baroness and the general, heading east, passing the Seven Cats Inn, a tavern I had drunk I more than once, before passing the village of Carsten, the walls of the enormous state eventually coming into view.

On first appearance, it appeared a day of horse races were being held, something I knew that might just interest Geralt as he loved putting Roach through his paces. Horses were a means of transport and that was it to me. I was comfortable enough on horseback but lacked his flair and skill in the saddle.

Geralt and Morvran certainly showed interest in the horses and racing them. I would rather have just concentrated on talking to Molly, Morvran asking for a little patience, and eventually he made a wager with Geralt in regards to a race. I groaned as I took a seat in the grandstand, a little surprised when Maria Louisa took a seat in the chair next to me.

“You look well, Maria.”

“What are you doing here, Ragnar?” she hissed.

I glanced at her and smiled. “Calm down, Maria. The bigger deal you make of it, the more people will question. I’m here to speak to Molly as she had information we might need.” I leaned closer to her. “Do you really think I’m going to shout about what we got up to?”

“Well… no…”

“Exactly. What we did was a secret. A very big secret, but one I’m not going to share.” I met her eyes. “Besides, why would I want to ruin a good memory or two?”

She obviously couldn’t stop thinking of the same memories as a slight smile appeared. “Do you regret anything?”

I knew exactly what she meant. “No.”

“You never wondered…”

“I wondered, but it’s better how things are, Maria.” I took her hand in mine. She looked a little unsure, but no-one was looking at us. “Do you know where your daughter is?”

She shook her head, giving her hand a squeeze. “I haven’t seen her since… God, I can’t remember. And no-one can get word to me. Not now.”

“Are you well at least?”

She met my eyes, no doubt judging the sincerity. Then she grinned. “Things could always be worse, Ragnar. I’m alive. As far as I know, my daughter still lives. And if she does…”

“Any word on Aryan?”

“Even less than Anais, but I know he’s searching for her. If he’s ever successful, then when this war is finally concluded, and Nilfgaard take control, she will be put on the throne.” I raised my eyebrows at that. “Temeria will become a vassal state, but the monarchy will be re-established. Anais will rule though will require someone to guide her until she is of age.”

“Maria, are you suggesting that you covet power?”

“No. But if it keeps my daughter alive and protects her, then I’ll do whatever is necessary.”

Conversation ceased as the horses started the race, and we sat in silence, waiting for them to return. I didn’t even realise I was still holding her hand until they crossed the line, Geralt just in front of Morvran. She was about ready to applaud when she realised. I felt my cheeks heat up as I let her go, standing up alongside her and applauding.

“Morvran, is he…”

“Just a friend, Ragnar.” She leaned closer, her voice no more than a whisper. “How long are you in Novigrad?”

“Indefinite, to be honest. Geralt and I are busy working.” As I said that, I noticed Geralt in conversation with a woman I assumed to be Molly. He glanced up at me and shook his head, though I’m not sure due to me being distracted, or she didn’t have any information we could use. Morvran walked up towards Maria Louisa and I, asking how we knew each other, as it was obvious we did.

“We bumped into each other from time to time in Vizima,” I stated, “And you should know by now I’m a rather friendly sod.”

That made him laugh, and while I don’t think he was suspicious, I was fairly sure he would know of my reputation, but even he wouldn’t believe I’d bed the mistress of a king. He was wrong, of course…

With the racing complete, and the festivities otherwise dying down, the four of us mounted up and rode back to Novigrad, arriving by the time it was dark. We parted not far past the gate, as there was little reason for either Geralt or I to head to the other end of the city. Morvran seemed to realise I was on friendly terms with the baroness, giving us a private moment. I kissed her cheeks again. “Come see me while you’re in town,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. God yes.”

Then she kissed my cheek and walked away to join Morvran. Geralt and I shook his hand again, wished each other good luck, before he disappeared with the baroness. Only when they were gone did he turned to me. “What the fuck was that about, Ragnar?” I gave him a look he’d know well. Thankfully, he just chuckled to himself. “God, if Foltest had ever found out…”

“Aye, he’d have had my balls. So it didn’t happen often, and it wasn’t just for pleasure either.”

“Seriously, Ragnar, who haven’t you fucked?” I gave him another look, waving a dismissive hand in my direction. “Yes, yes, I know. You aren’t stupid enough to try anything with Yennefer. She’d just turn you into a toad if you even suggested it. And I know you wouldn’t do that to me. But, seriously, I know you’ve had a good track record, and I know you have done things for Triss, but I’m literally staggered by one or two of your conquests. Even Dandelion would shake his head in sheer wonder.”

Triss was waiting for me at the bar when Geralt and I walked in. I filled her in on the details of the day, though only told her of the offer from Maria Louisa after we’d made love that night. I never told her things like that before, just in case it dampened the mood. She was rather amused at the offer, but showed her good heart in her hopes that Anais was safe and that, one day, she would regain her right to the throne.

“That’s for later. I guess you really do need to find Dandelion.”

“I just hope he’s okay, but I’ve got this bad feeling he was up to something very stupid.” She snuggled into my side as I held her tight, her fingers running up and down my chest. “Well, even if he has, Geralt and I will certainly do our best to help him. Wouldn’t be the first time, probably won’t be the last either.”


	14. Daisy

“Priscilla!” Zoltan cried as I walked through the door of the Rosemary and Thyme.

“Who?” I asked, taking hold of the tankard Zoltan passed to me as I joined the pair at a table.

“That’s who you’ve been looking for,” he explained, gesturing to Geralt, “As I’ve told him, she’s a trobairitz. Quite popular of late. Picture Dandelion with a pair o' tits and you've got the general idea.”

“Well, there’s an image forever burned into my mind,” I muttered.

“Zoltan believes our friend has fallen in love, Ragnar.”

I burst into laughter. Geralt grinned but Zoltan gave me a look that brought my laughter to an abrupt halt. “You’re not kidding?”

“Who does Dandelion love most?” Zoltan asked.

“Himself,” Geralt and I replied in unison.

“Aye, exactly. And in Priscilla, she’s his mirror image. He is absolutely head over heels in love with her, lads. I’ve never seen him like it before. Talks about her more than he talks about himself.”

“Shit, must be serious,” I only half-joked.

“Even better news is that Priscilla works with a mummer’s troupe, called ‘Renarde and the Foxen.’ Whenever they’re in town, she performed nightly at the Kingfisher.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Hadn’t noticed.”

“You were otherwise engaged,” Geralt stated, “So we’re going to meet there tonight and hopefully make contact. Might have to delay your nightly lovemaking with Triss for a couple of hours.”

“Making up for lost time, Ragnar?” Zoltan enquired, a grin on his face. I just waved away his question. I didn’t talk about such matters, despite what people might have thought.

With a day to myself, the first time I’d had a day since… White Orchard, Geralt and I agreed to split up, as he was going to continue his search. Without his particular set of skills, unless I ended up just bumping into Dandelion or someone I recognised, there was little I could actually do. I did wonder if Francis Bedlam would know anything, but I didn’t particularly want to sit down and discuss anything with him, and I simply had no idea who in Novigrad would know anything.

So I ended up spending most of the day wandering around. Spent some time by the docks. Always loved ships, and while most were merchant vessels, there were a few warships that captured the imagination. Having lived in Skyrim nearly all my life, the chances of travelling by ship was few and far between. There was the one time I travelled to Solstheim, but that was it.

I enjoyed lunch and a couple of tankards at a tavern by the docks, chuckling at all the accents I could hear, as the men who worked on ships were from across the Continent, and there was no missing those who came from Skellige. They were the men who, after a few drinks, generally went looking for a fight.

Returning to the main square, I ended up heading into the Kingfisher by late afternoon, laying back on my bed and reading a book. Triss walked in as it was probably growing dark outside and noticed me, having a little giggle as she immediately took off her coat and lay down next to me. “What are you reading?”

“Novel called the Sword of Destiny. Pretty good, to be honest.”

“Still carry around a couple of books when on the road?

I met her eyes and grinned. “Of course. Geralt isn’t exactly known as a conversationalist, is he? I made sure I learned how to read and write when I was younger, so at moments like this, I could just pick up a book and pass the time.” I put the book down and turned to cuddle her. “Need to head downstairs later. We made a breakthrough. The name Priscilla mean anything to you?”

“No. Should it?”

“She’s a performer that Dandelion has apparently fallen in love with.”

Triss just smiled and cuddled into me. “We’ll head downstairs later then. If Dandelion has fallen in love with her, then she must be special.”

We must have drifted off, as I was eventually given a gentle shake, waking up to see Geralt standing over us, telling us he’d been knocking for five minutes before he just tried the knob. “I’m just glad you’re both dressed. Priscilla will be on stage in around ten minutes.”

Yawning, Triss and I got up and headed downstairs, Zoltan already at a table with drinks for us, though I ordered a little food for Triss and I. There was plenty of noise as the place was as packed as I’d seen it, though Geralt had been right. Triss and I would usually be upstairs doing other things by this time of night.

A beautiful blonde woman appeared from a side door and stepped up onto the stage, the crowd immediately starting to quiet down as she fiddled with her lute before finally looking up and gazing over the crowd. She had the voice of an angel. The entire crowd was spellbound with every word she sang, every strum of her lute. Triss was cuddling into my side within seconds. And, when listening to the words, it was one of Dandelion’s ballads about Geralt and Yennefer. My witcher friend rarely showed emotion, but we could all see he missed her as he rested elbows on his thighs, his shoulders lumping, Zoltan patting him on the back.

It was obviously sung for a reason, as once the applause died down, she headed straight for Geralt. They shared whispered words before Priscilla disappeared upstairs. Geralt and Zoltan turned around, gesturing for us to wait. We finished our tankards before Geralt stood up, the rest of us following him upstairs into another room where Priscilla was waiting for us.

She was just as sweet as I thought she would be. No wonder Dandelion fell in love with her, notwithstanding the jokes about seeing himself in her. But from that one song alone, the talent had been obvious. Sitting us down and offering us a drink, once we all had a tankard in hand, she sat down and got straight down to business.

“You’re looking for Dandelion, I take it?” We all nodded. “I haven’t see him in… a couple of weeks. The last time I saw him, he spoke about a heist. Sigi Reuven’s vault.”

“And that is?” Geralt wondered, “Who is he?”

“Tall, fat, bald. And very, very intelligent. Not someone to mess with.”

“Heard any news about his whereabouts since?” I asked.

“I’ve asked about him everywhere, or at least with those I can at least trust. Ask the wrong person, and I’d probably end up in whatever hole he’s found himself. What I did learn is that he caused quite the ruckus over at Whoreson Junior’s lair. Then Whoreson had his men chase him across Novigrad in return.”

“You know who this Whoreson Junior is?” Geralt asked Zoltan.

“Aye. Biggest prick in town. Not literally, but…”

“What do we know about him?” I asked.

“He's one of four bosses who control the city's underworld, the others being Sigi Reuven, Carlo "The Cleaver" Varese and the King of Beggars.”

Geralt looked at me. “Well, we already know who the ‘King’ is, and I think he would have known we were his friends, so I think we can count him out. Fairly sure he would have made a big issue about it when meeting us the first time. But Sigi Reuven? Definitely someone we can approach, Ragnar.”

“And this Whoreson?” I wondered.

“Next on our list. But if Dandelion has gone after his treasure, I had no doubt he’s involved in his disappearance.”

“I don't know about Whoreson, Geralt, but Reuven runs a bathhouse. Careful, though. He's a dangerous character.” Then Zoltan looked between us and chuckled. “I think you two will be just fine.”

“I won’t be leaving Novigrad anytime soon,” Priscilla added. “All I want to know is that Dandelion is okay. I knew there was no chance of talking him out of this idea of his. I’d never seen him so focused on something though. He was determined to go through with this. I just have no idea why.”

“We’ll bring him home, safe and sound,” Geralt stated, “Come on, Zoltan. We’ll head back to the tavern. Ragnar, meet us there tomorrow morning and we’ll start our investigations.”

Thanking Priscilla for the help, the four of us left her in peace, Zoltan and Geralt heading downstairs, Triss and I heading for our bedroom. Door locked, Triss walked away, and between the door and the bed, she managed to take off all her clothing except her underwear, turning back towards me wearing quite the smile on her face. I just walked towards her before taking her in my arms, loving the feeling of her soft skin on my hands as I kissed her. Removing her underwear, she did have a giggle about the fact she was naked and I was still dressed. “I think you like having me around naked,” she suggested.

“I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

I did end up as naked as she did within a couple of minutes, sat on the edge of the bed as she kneeled between my legs. Caressing her cheek, I leaned down to kiss her, pulling her tight, feeling her soft fingers grasping my cock. “It’s been a long time since I’ve just spent… hours playing with your cock, Ragnar.”

“I do remember certain nights when I’m sure you just wanted me to feel completely and utterly empty.”

“I made sure you ate right so it tasted better.” I chuckled loudly as I remembered the certain fruits that always seemed to end up on my plate. “Would you like me to please you in such a manner all night?”

“If I can return the favour eventually.”

“Of course. Later, though.”

Watching Triss Merigold make love to my cock with her mouth would be something I would never tire of seeing. Some women generally did it out of obligation, not enjoyment. I’d had more than one lover like that. Triss adored doing it for me. As much as I loved going down on her, she loved going down on me. And as much as I would tease her when eating her out, she would tease the hell out of me. I loved every second of it.

When I needed to cum, all I did was groan, running fingers through her hair. She would look up and smile, at least appearing in her eyes, hearing her make audible gulps as she would generally swallow, though not always. Sensing I was now empty for the time being, she would sit back wearing a grin, perhaps using a finger to clean up any cum that had escaped her mouth. “I love doing that for you,” she whispered.

“Uh huh,” I muttered, as I wasn’t exact with it.

“You’ve got ten minutes, Ragnar, then I’m going to continue. I’ll have the joy of sucking you off for even longer.”

“Fucking love you,” I stated.

“You’re just saying that because I swallowed and I’m ready to keep going.”

“One of the many reasons.”

She had me lie back, crouching between my legs, grasping the base of my cock and she was soon slowly sucking my cock again. Gods, the woman was far too talented for her own good. She’d been pretty good when we first started our physical relationship, but through the years we’d been together, she had only got better and better.

I made her laugh when I did beg a little about her turning around so I can return the favour. But she didn’t move, not yet, remaining sat between my legs, her head continuing to bob up and down, looking up with those gorgeous green eyes of hers. I have no idea how long she ended up blowing me that second time. Must have been an hour at least. I could see her shoulder moving, suggesting she was fondling herself at the same time, no doubt a little tease that she could touch herself but I couldn’t touch her just yet.

“Getting close?” she did ask later. I just nodded, not really trusting my voice. “When you cum again, then you can eat me out.”

“Thank god,” I groaned, making her giggle again.

I’ll admit I almost passed out when she made me cum again. Each shot felt even stronger than before. Groaned loudly, so loudly I’m sure someone would have considered knocking, asking what the hell was going on in the room. I heard her slurp and gulp for a few seconds before I felt her lips removed, resting my cock back against my body as I felt soft kisses up my chest.

Her eyes met mine, nothing but a smile lighting up her face otherwise. “So…”

“Want to sit on my face in a few minutes?”

That made her laugh out loud. Just another dagger to the heart. I loved making her laugh. “Sure you won’t drown in my pussy?”

“No better way to die. ‘How did Ragnar die, Miss Merigold?’ ‘He drowned while eating me out, doctor. I got a little too wet, I didn’t even realise until his tongue stopped moving.’” She burst into fits of giggles, and I couldn’t help laugh as she rested against me, wrapping my arms around her. “I’ve missed this,” I whispered.

“You always knew how to make me laugh, at least,” she whispered back.

“Considering life for us hasn’t always been easy, humour is sometimes the only way to cope. Got to find joys in life when it’s collapsing around you otherwise. The day I don’t make you laugh…”

“You will always think of something silly to say, Ragnar. Anything to earn a smile.”

The rest of the night was spent how it started. She did eventually sit on my face, and I loved the feeling of her almost grinding on my lips as my tongue got to work. Turned on as she was after pleasing me for so long, she enjoyed a couple of orgasms herself before she moved off my face, straddled my lap, and happily slid down my cock instead.

We didn’t make love for all that long as we were both a little tired by then. Triss eventually ended up on her back, arms and legs wrapped around my body, neither of us really moving otherwise, spending more time kissing than anything else. Once I enjoyed a final orgasm, we stopped completely, though still inside her, resting on my forearms as we mixed kissing and quiet conversation. We must have stayed like that for quite a while before she finally started to laugh. “Have we been talking while you’re still inside me?”

I looked down to see my cock still buried inside her. “Aye.”

“And you’re still hard?”

“Aye.”

“How?”

I met her eyes and grinned. “You.”

That earned one of those grins I adored. Then I felt her squeeze my cock, which made me chuckle. “Okay, one more, Ragnar, then we should go to sleep.”

“I’m not sure if I have the energy for all that movement.”

“I always have enough for one last ride, Ragnar.”

We woke up in rather good moods the next morning, Triss having turned around during the night so she was snuggled up against me, heading resting beneath my chin, holding her as close as I could while still being comfortable. Once both awake, she smiled and we moved so I was between her legs again, slowly sliding my cock inside her, making love for a while until we both enjoyed an orgasm. Only then did we wish each other good morning, making each other laugh, before finally getting up, dressing, and walking downstairs for breakfast.

Walking into the Rosemary and Thyme, Zoltan took one look at me and burst into laughter. “Was it like this when you were living together in Vizima?” he wondered, handing me my now usual morning beer.

“We were happy, Zoltan.”

Must have been something in my tone, as he simply grinned, patting my arm a couple of times. Over drinks, we discussed our next move. For a time, we talked about splitting up and hitting both Sigi Reuven and Whoreson Junior. But while perhaps a good idea, we simply had no idea what we might end up dealing with. Geralt and I could look after ourselves most of the time, but both of us carried scars from when we’d underestimated the enemy. And we agreed that we did work well together. Geralt would happily admit that me just standing next to him, silent and brooding, in addition to him doing exactly the same thing, usually worked. We were almost a double act at times.

The bathhouse was only a short walk away, though in the classier Gildorf district of the city. They were establishments I rarely visited. When living in Vizima, Triss made sure we had a water closet where we could wash. She went so far as to buy a tub large enough we could relax in together. I did enjoy a bathhouse for things like a steam room though. Get a good sweat going, then a quick dip in cold water. Rather invigorating, a reminder of similar places back in Skyrim.

Both of us were surprised to find the door closed and locked upon our arrival, considering it was still only mid-morning. Never one for patience, Geralt was quickly banging on the door, demanding we be let in. A slot in the door finally opened. “The bathhouse is closed. Please return later.”

“I need to speak with the owner,” Geralt stated.

“He’s terribly busy. Come back later.”

“Tell him Geralt of Rivia and Ragnar Dragonborn are here to see him. That should grab his attention.”

The voice remained quiet for a few seconds. “I will let Mister Reuven know who is at the door. Please wait.”

As the slot closed, I gave Geralt a look. He returned my look and shrugged. “What?”

“You do have your ways with people.”

“All that matters is tracking down Ciri, Ragnar. And if he has information, I want to hear it.”

We didn’t have to wait long for the door to open, a short, bald, fat man greeting us. “Sigi Reuven cordially invites you to join him. I'm Happen. The meeting is in the baths. We will pass through the dressing room, so you can leave your weapons and clothes.”

Following him through the bathhouse, it was certainly exquisite. Lots of money must have gone in the décor and design. The fact there were a few gorgeous women around probably helped the appeal as well, left thinking this was an establishment for men only. And maybe women who had certain tastes. Geralt and I undressed, wrapping ourselves in towels. Neither of us had anything to hide, but it appeared decorum was on the menu this time.

Walking into what I assumed was the VIP bathroom, there were three men in there. No doubt Geralt recognised one of them immediately as Francis Bedlam. The fact he was there wasn’t a real surprise, as it was easy to figure out who the meeting was between. The dwarf I’d never seen before, but the tattoos and manner suggested he was nothing but a thug. The third man though. The one calling him Sigi Reuven. Geralt and I definitely recognised him, but were smart enough to keep our mouths shut as we listened into the conversation before our introduction.

Happen cleared his throats. “Your guests, sir.”

“Thank you, Happen. You may leave.”

It was definitely him. Never forget that voice. My run-ins with him had been few, but there were certain people that lingered long in the memory.

“Why the fuck you let them in here?” the dwarf asked with attitude.

“Because I want to talk to them. And where one goes, the other usually isn’t far behind. The white-haired one is Geralt of Rivia. The bigger one…” That made me grin. I had a couple of inches and was broader than Geralt. “The bigger one is Ragnar Dragonborn.”

Francis stepped forward, offering his hand. “Good to see you again. Is Triss well, Ragnar?”

“She is. Thank you, Francis.”

He knew what I meant by that. He might have been extorting her, but he’d kept her safe. That’s all anyone could ask considering everything going on. He merely returned a brief nod before stepping back.

“As always I'm out of the swivin' loop. Who the fuck are you?” the dwarf asked again.

“Witcher,” I replied, pointing at Geralt, “Dragonborn,” I added, pointing at myself, before gesturing at Reuven, “And this is…” I glanced at Geralt. “Well, calls himself Sigi Reuven now, Geralt.”

“Last I heard, his name was Djikstra. Sigismund Djikstra.” Djikstra was a big fucker. Taller than me, and… fat. But while he might have been fat, he was a beast of a man. Powerful. Skilled in many ways. Dangerous. And had a fierce temper that he could amazingly keep in check when required.

“What brings you to my humble establishment, witcher?” Djikstra asked.

“We need to talk.” Then he paused and looked at me. “Shit. People coming, Ragnar. And we have no weapons.”

“You sure?” Djikstra asked.

The screams behind us confirmed Geralt knew what he was talking about. The one thing you could say about Djikstra was that he was always prepared. I took hold of a club and threw away my towel, much to the amusement of the others. “The ancient Nords used to fight naked, a long time ago now. Fuck it, they want to attack while I want to relax, the last thing they’re going to see is me with my cock flopping around as I put this through their fucking heads.”

What did we learn during the ensuring battle? Men didn’t light fighting other men who were naked. You think that would make them confident, but it is an intimidation tactic. There was no suggestion whatsoever of taking one or two as prisoner for interrogation, not once we learned that they were sent by Whoreson Junior. And I don’t think the likes of the dwarf would have left any of them alive anyway. To say he was an angry, short man would be an understatement.

Gathering back in the same room once they were all dead, the conversation immediately turned to Whoreson Junior. Not so much why he launched the attack but the reprisals against him that would now occur. The dwarf, who we learned was named Carlo Varese, otherwise known as Cleaver, let it be known he was going to find Whoreson Junior and do rather unpleasant things to him. He then buggered off, not without suggesting to Geralt and I that we should go visit him soon.

Bedlam quickly followed, another shake of the hand for each of us, mostly for keeping him and his associates alive. Leaving us with Djikstra, he suggested we adjourn to his office, after we’d obviously changed. I’ll be honest, once sat down in his office, he was polite as always, pouring us a snifter of liquor, and he sat down himself, but the enmity still remained even after all this time.

“You fight, Ragnar?” he asked.

“Aye. Temeria, of course.”

“I’d expect nothing less. Surprised you’re alive. I know they slaughtered their way towards the Pontar.”

“I’m sure you saw the new scar on my chest. Nilfgaard did their best to kill me. Some of us survived to fight another day, but for the moment, Temeria isn’t on any maps.”

“Get the feeling your colleagues don’t want all-out war with Whoreson. Why is that?” Geralt asked.

“Let me tell you what I told King Vizimir time and time again: war doesn't solve problems. It breeds trouble, trouble you then have to solve by other means. Make no mistake, someone's behind Whoreson's actions. I'll not end him until I know who.”

“Or maybe he’s just an over-confident idiot?” I suggested.

“Whoreson Junior is a lot of things. A thug, a piece of shit human being, the lowest piece of pond scum imaginable, but an idiot isn’t one of them,” Djikstra retorted.

“They know who you really are, Djikstra?” Geralt wondered, “Former head of Redanian intelligence now apparently slumming it as a crime lord?”

The question seemed to amuse him though he made do with a shrug at first. “Do they know who I am, was? Bedlam? Sure. The others most likely suspect. But we just don't talk about it. No need to.”

“Where do we find him?” I asked, “Bastard must be somewhere.”

Djkstra had a map of Novigrad, pointing out an arena and a casino we could investigate, and also the address of Junior’s home. The casino was near the Temple Watch towers. The arena was in the sewers in Gildorf. His house was on Temple Isle. Geralt and I shared a glance, knowing we’d split up. “Should we go speak to Cleaver?” I wondered.

“Honestly? No. Handle this yourself. Cleaver will just go and fuck things up. I know you’re here for your own reasons. Don’t know and don’t rightly care. But if you want Junior breathing when you find him, I would ignore Cleaver and get this done yourself.” I think Geralt and I were both taken aback by his honesty, and he noticed. “Lot of shit has happened between us, but those bodies out there are on the ground thanks to you two. So I owe you one, maybe more than one right now. But don’t get used to it.”

We finished our drinks, nodded our thanks, and headed outside. Convening by a fountain nearby, we discussed our options. “I’ll take the arena,” Geralt stated.

“You sure?”

He nodded. “I have no doubt what sort of fights take place in this arena. I think the word ‘fight’ is applied loosely. I think it’s better a witcher heads there. You go to the casino, see what you can find out. Word of advice? Don’t go asking about him too loudly. Blend in with the players. Once you sit with someone you think you can trust enough to ask, then do so. When you’re done, we’ll meet back at the Rosemary and Thyme, then we’ll hit Junior’s house.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

_A few years earlier…_

“Do you trust me, Ragnar?”

I looked up from the book I was reading. Triss was in a meeting with one of her colleagues. The other sorceresses were around, no doubt working on their magic or conspiring. Laying the book down on my thigh, I gestured for Philippa to sit down opposite me. “Why do you ask?”

“Triss has brought you along a couple of times now…”

“Every time, Philippa.”

“Yes, every time. I just wonder if… She tells you things. None of us are stupid. You are lovers. You would obviously talk about what transpires here.”

“I understand some of what you discuss is secret. I never push her for information. If she thinks it’s worth sharing, she will. I’m wondering why you care if I trust you or not.”

“Because you may hear rumours about me eventually. I know you are part of courtly life in Vizima. I know Foltest sends you to Redania as a military attaché. And I know you have met and perhaps had discussions with certain people in Redanian intelligence.”

“What are you getting at, Philippa? Spit it out.”

“I know there are those in Redania who are trying to their utmost to find out what I’m up to here. They know nothing of the Lodge. Everything here is a secret. Can I ask a favour?”

“Sure.”

That made her smile. “Just like that?”

Shrugging, I replied, “Aye, just like that. Tell me what you need and I’ll let you know if it’s possible.”

She stood up then perched herself on my lap, obviously using her sexuality to appeal to my nature. It worked, of course, as she whispered what she wanted in my ear. I just met her eyes and nodded. Then she asked in a whisper, “Triss brings you here for a reason, doesn’t she?”

“I’m her bodyguard, Philippa. She trusts you, but even though you think rather poorly of men like myself, I can see your lust for power causing problems between all of you. It’s human nature, even women are susceptible to it. Ambition will get in the way of your collective ideas.”

“I know she brought you here for another reason, Ragnar. Perhaps hoping you would seduce some of us. Or maybe expecting us to seduce you.” I met her eyes and grinned, but remained silent. The caress of my cheek wasn’t a real surprise. “Would you like me to seduce you, Ragnar?” she breathed.

“Philippa, you wouldn’t have to spend too long doing that for me to agree.”

For some reason, my honesty made her smile. “Like me? Find me attractive? Or just want to fuck me?”

“I find ambitious, intelligent, courageous women rather attractive. I’ve always told Triss I would support her in whatever she wanted to achieve. I’ve saved my own world. I can now support someone else in whatever ambitions they have.”

“No wonder she loves you.”

“I love her just as much in return.”

“Yet… I have heard you enjoy… carnal relations with others.”

“Triss also enjoys the occasional dalliance with women. Sex and love and intimacy all mean the world, but sometimes sex can just be… sex. A physical connection shared by two people.” I paused before adding, “Which makes me wonder why you’re currently sitting on my lap, perhaps suggesting something, when I have heard enough to have believed you preferred what was commonly referred to as ‘lesbomancy’.”

“I prefer women but surely you have heard of bisexuality, Ragnar.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“So you know it means a woman, or a man, does enjoy relations with both sexes?”

“I know that too.”

“Do you want to fuck me, Ragnar”

“Fuck yes. Since that first meeting.”

Again, that earned a smile. I remembered those eyes the first time we had met, those eyes that would have caused the hardest of men to wither at her gaze. The eyes looking at me now had softened with each meeting. I knew she was offering for her own reasons. Whether she was actually attracted or not, I’d probably never know. I’d figure it out if we ever did have sex.

“Who else do you want to sleep with here?”

I chuckled as I replied, “All of you.”

“Slept with anyone except Triss yet?”

“I don’t particularly…”

“No-one will find out. Just consider me intrigued.”

“Well… okay… Sile.”

“No! You slept with Sile de Tansarville? I wouldn’t have put any coin on her spreading her legs for anyone!””

I shrugged. “We talked, a little more each time I arrived here. She’s… lonely and I was an ear who would sit silently and listen to her. Like many of you, has no real trust in men. But like all of you, she’s just… brilliant. I let her know that constantly. And I made her laugh.”

“Anyone else?”

“Just one more. Assire var Anahid. I think it should be easy to figure out why.”

Philippa grinned. “You _pump_ her for information?”

“More than once,” I replied with a smirk, “Make a woman… er…”

“Orgasm, Ragnar?”

“Aye, do that, and women can be surprisingly open and talkative.” I met her eyes again. “Sure you still want it to happen? You might end up letting slip what you really want once I’m done with you.”

“I’ll just make you cum more than once and return the favour, Ragnar.”

“A night with you, Philippa, I plan on both of us being far too tired for any sort of pillow talk.”

She scoffed, though with a chuckle. “Typical man.”

“I have my faults like most of us,” I retorted with a shrug.

She moved off my lap and brushed her dress down, though leaned over enough that I got a good look at her cleavage. She knew exactly what she was doing as she looked up, met my eyes, and grinned. It was no shy grin either. As I said, knew exactly what she was doing. I stood up myself, always appreciating the fact that all these powerful sorceresses had to at least look up to meet my gaze. She ran a hand down my arm. “I’m sure we’ll speak later, Ragnar.”

“I’m sure we will, Philippa.”

At dinner that night, Triss sat next to me as always but a different woman would generally sit next to me each time. That night, someone I would admit I had been chasing for some time sat next to me. A female who should really have hated myself and most of the humans in that room, but sorceresses put any personal issues to the side when it came to the ambitions of the Lodge.

Triss finished dinner first and leaned closer. “I will be busy tonight, Ragnar,” she whispered, I met her eyes and she gave me a look. I raised my eyebrows as she learned back to my ear. “Want to know who?”

“Philippa?”

That made her giggle. “Bet you’d love to hear about that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d love to see it,” I whispered back.

“It’s not Philippa.” She kissed my cheek, stood up, and disappeared with most of the other women present. In fact, within a couple of minutes, I realised I was alone with the female sitting next to me. If I didn’t know any better, it had been planned that way.

Taking the carafe of wine in front of me, I poured Francesca another glass, poured myself one, and we clinked our glasses together. When she met my eyes, she was surprisingly shy, and a little colour appeared in her cheeks. She was absolutely gorgeous. I considered Triss one of the most beautiful woman I’d ever met, Philippa was gorgeous, even Yennefer had a classical beauty that certainly made me understand while Geralt loved her.

Francesca Findabair, otherwise known as Enid an Gleanna, was considered, by some, to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Perhaps in recorded history. And at that precise moment, she was sat next to me, definitely attracted in return. “You set this up?” I had to ask.

“No, did you?” she asked softly.

“I certainly didn’t.” Then our eyes met again and we chuckled. “Well, maybe we should adjourn somewhere?”

“I have a large room, chairs by a fireplace. Maybe you should grab another carafe of wine?”

“I can do that.” I did just that, grabbing two, and I followed her back to her room, my eyes definitely watching her walk, imagining some rather slim but long legs, a tight and pert butt, and… well, I tried not to imagine too much, hoping I’d see it a little later instead.

There was only a lounge by the fireplace, Francesca sitting down first. I sat down next to her, pouring us each a glass, before she kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet under her, and she certainly leaned in closer. I could smell her perfume, almost feel her body heat. She looked up and those utterly gorgeous blue eyes met mine.

“What do you think of my kind?” she asked.

“Elves or females?”

That made her smile. “Elves.”

“We haven’t been kind.”

“I understand you’re not of this world?”

“I’m not. The elves where I’m from are different. There are numerous elven races, and they are powerful. I have seen what most of your kind have had to endure here. I don’t offer pity, as I know your people wouldn’t want it. I believe you want to restore your pride and honour yourself, without the help of my kind, but perhaps our goodwill.”

“You are an unusual human.”

“I’ve had to do a lot of maturing since I became the Dragonborn.” When I wrapped an arm around her, she definitely cuddled into me, sipping at our glasses of wine. “I do find elves of this world rather attractive.” That earned a giggle. “Must be something in the water.” That made her laugh out loud, but her hand rested on my chest, taking hold of it in my much larger hand.

“You’re not the first human to think that,” she finally said, “Though more generally call us ‘knife ear’ and other such derogatory names.”

“I figured. I think it’s weird people let the shape of an ear bother them.” I took a sip of wine then asked the question really on my mind, the question I had asked those I’d already been intimate with. “Why are you with the Lodge, Francesca?”

“I already have Dol Blathanna, something I’ve wanted for a long time. I’ve had to do things, sacrifice so much, to obtain it. Now it’s about… magic. And my people. Ensuring their…” She sighed and turned towards me. “It’s not a topic for now, Ragnar. It’s for another time.”

“You sure? I’ll happily listen. It’s what I do.”

She leaned forward to place her glass on the table, then took mine and laid it next to her, before she positioned herself so she was straddling my lap. In the light of the fireplace, she was absolutely stunning. I couldn’t help lower the straps from over her shoulders, running my fingers up the smooth skin of her arms, gently up her neck before I caressed her cheek. She leaned forward and kissed me, and it was immediately a deep, passionate kiss, enough that it made both of us smile while kissing.

“I’ve watched you,” she whispered, “Striding the halls. Once I realised… that Triss didn’t seem to mind…”

“She’s having fun now too,” I whispered back, “May have told her that I do love beautiful elven women.”

That earned another kiss, easily able to lift her up as she was incredibly light, carrying her over to the large, luxurious looking bed. Thankfully she was wearing a simple dress. She could have used magic but seemed to enjoy me taking her out of it. Once I had her down to underwear, she sat up and helped me out of my clothing, falling onto the bed together, hearing her giggle away as my lips went looking for those part of her body I knew she’d enjoy.

She was slim like all elven women. Her breasts were a handful, perfect for her slim frame, her nipples hard as diamonds once I’d taken off her bra, my lips finding one of them, her own hand sliding under my underwear and caressing my cock. “Wow,” she whispered.

“All in good time,” I whispered back.

Moving down to her underwear, I practically tore them off, despite they looked high quality and probably expensive. The fact she had no hair near her pussy wasn’t a surprise. No teasing now, I simply lowered my mouth and enjoyed her taste. Her fingers ran through my hair as I ate her out. Remembering my conversation with Philippa earlier, when it came to Francesca, my only intention was to make her orgasm more than once, enjoy some rather good sex, hopefully, then hold her in my arms afterwards.

She started to babble a little elven as she got closer to orgasm. I didn’t understand a word of it. I’d done my best to try and learn it, but as few humans spoke it, and my run-ins with elves were few, I simply gave up. But she lifted her head and looked down, her body writhing as my tongue certainly seemed to be doing all the right things. Meeting her eyes, I certainly loved the look she returned.

Rolling her head back, her back arching slightly, she certainly enjoyed her orgasm, hearing her quietly beg me to keep going. “Too long,” she whispered. The idea she hadn’t been intimate with someone in a while was a surprise, assuming someone like her would have a lover. Maybe her beauty intimidated people.

She had a second orgasm before asking me to stop, though that was only so I could take off my underwear as she spread her legs. She didn’t need to say a word as I guided my cock slowly inside her. Leaning down to kiss her again, she ran her hands through my hair before whispering into my ear, “Fuck me.” I certainly lifted my head back far enough to meet her eyes. She blushed. “Please fuck me!”

So I did. Her hands ran up and down my arms and back, even my chest. I felt her ankles eventually rest just above my arse. Our mouths were locked together for most of the time, only parting when we needed to take a deep breath, release a loud moan or groan, or whisper some rather naughty suggestion to the other. I may have received compliments about my cock. I definitely complimented her on how tight she was. Completely natural feeling for both of us, and it’s always nice to be told.

I lasted longer than I would have thought, and when I did finally cum, I stayed as hard as ever. And there was only one thing I wanted, easily holding her and rolling over onto my back. Her face lit up in a smile immediately, and I had the pleasure of watching Francesca Findabair ride me through more than one orgasm before I felt the urge to cum again.

Spooned against me a little later, she felt so slim and light in my arms, but I didn’t let that fool me for a moment. Running my fingers up and down her body, she turned her head constantly so we could kiss, and the smile… a constant smile. “This will happen again,” she said softly.

“I won’t say no.”

“Only here, Ragnar. My people…” I just gave her a squeeze. “Nice to know you care though,” she whispered.

“I think everyone deserve happiness, to feel safe and secure.”

“Most unusual human.”

I felt her fall asleep in my arms, and wondered if she’d had many if any human lovers, and if she’d ever fallen asleep so easily, if she’d ever felt so comfortable. I watched her sleep a little while, simply soaking in her beauty. Waking up the next morning, I opened my eyes to find her gazing down at me, her fingers trailing around my face. “Never been with a man who had a beard.”

“A little weird?”

“Not at all. Just an observation.” She then surprised me by throwing back the covers, and in the light of the morning streaming through the windows, I watched her slowly lower herself down on my cock. Leaning down to kiss me, she rested her forehead against mine as she quickly picked up a tempo. “Definitely happening again,” she whispered before kissing me hard, whimpering into my mouth as she was definitely working hard to make herself orgasm quickly. My hands found their way to her pert little arse. “Want your cock again,” she added.

“Often as you want. Your…” I trailed off, actually feeling my cheeks heat up a bit. For some reason, being vulgar with her felt… different.

“I know you love my pussy, Ragnar. The fact you ate me out for so long last night suggests you love my taste, and the fact you have the biggest cock I’ve ever had, and that’s because of me, suggests you love being inside me.” She leaned down and kiss me again, feeling her lips move to my ear, “I want to feel you cum inside me one more time too.”

I started to thrust up into her, and that certainly made her cry out, gently holding her against my body, the intensity and passion of our kisses catching both of us by surprise, or so I thought. She enjoyed her orgasm first, but mine followed within seconds. We both stopped moving as soon as we were done.

“Holy shit,” I murmured, my fingers already stroking her back. She didn’t say anything, just feeling her chest rise and fall on top of mine.

She eventually rolled off, resting on her side, rolling myself so I could face her. Again, that smile appeared on her face that suggested she was happy, even content. “Never thought this would happen when agreeing to join. I would thank Triss, but I think she would believe I was mocking her.”

“Maybe. She’ll know I was with you last night… and this morning.”

“Probably should get up for breakfast soon.”

“Walk in together?”

“I’m not ashamed of what we’ve done. You?”

“I can’t wait to tell all my friends!” That made her laugh, earning me a gentle shove, before I hugged her tight to my body. “Definitely not. I had a great night… Enid.” She leaned back immediately, her lower lip starting to tremble. I caressed her cheek straight away. “That’s your _real_ name, is it not?” She nodded. “Then next time, I will be making love with Enid an Gleanna. What does it mean in Elder Speech?”

“Daisy of the Valleys,” she whispered, hearing her voice catch.

“Beautiful name. Beautiful woman. Maybe I’ll call you Daisy instead.”

“No wonder she loves you.”

“I have my moments.”

We got up and dressed in silence, but she certainly kept looking my way and smiling. I’d liked her from the moment we’d been introduced. We’d talked more than once. I did wonder why she was with the Lodge. She had her homeland, for want of a better word. But I guess she thought the Lodge could help her people in the end. And perhaps magic would be the thing to do that.

Walking into the dining room side by side earned more than one glance. Triss simply grinned. Philippa didn’t look shocked. There were whispered comments I didn’t hear and ignored the other glances. I sat next to Triss as always, Francesca taking the free seat next to me, a plate of food and a glass of juice placed in front of me by a steward.

“Have a good night, Ragnar?” Triss asked innocently.

“I had a wonderful night, Triss. Did you?”

“I’m exhausted.” I met her eyes and she giggled. “It was a long night.”

She was a delightful tease at times. I knew she’d tell me all about it that night, because it would turn me on, and the sex would be phenomenal afterwards. While riding me, she would go into great detail about who she was with and what they’d done together. Magic may be involved sometimes. If she was with a fellow sorceress with a kinky streak, Triss would sometimes suggest we try it ourselves.

Philippa suggested they convene for one last major conference before everyone started to leave the next morning, to take place within the next hour. Eventually, only Triss, Francesca and I were left eating, Francesca having said nothing since sitting down. It wasn’t a surprise, she would usually listen and observe in silence, only speaking when necessary.

“Thank you, Triss,” she finally said, not looking up from her plate.

“No need to thank me.”

“I mean thank you for understanding, for allowing me to…” Only now did she look up and at her. “I haven’t had a night like that in a long time.”

“Well, considering I was otherwise indisposed, I can’t think of anyone better for Ragnar to share a night with. And he hasn’t exactly been subtle in the fact he likes you.”

“I know,” she whispered, “I just never thought…”

I kissed Triss on the cheek, then kissed Francesca on the cheek, before I wandered out of the dining room. I figured they might want to have a chat. Heading towards the library, assuming it would be another day of reading and pointless patrolling, I heard a light laugh from behind me. “Well, well, well, Francesca Findabair does have a soft spot for humans after all. Or maybe at least one human. A human man is the surprise.” I glanced back to see Philippa leaning against a wall. “I don’t blame you, Ragnar. She’s a beautiful elven woman.”

“She is.”

“You realise she doesn’t like our kind? Humans, I mean. She’ll try and use you for her own objectives.”

“I can almost say right now I wouldn’t really care. And she certainly didn’t seem to mind me last night.”

“Ah! Captivated by her beauty already?”

“Have you seen her?”

“I have. She’s beautiful on the outside, but just like the rest of us on the inside.”

“As I’ve told you, Philippa, I admire all of you for what you’re trying to achieve. One thing you all are is courageous, because if the powers that be found out, you would all be strung up.”

“I think we should sit down one day in the future, Ragnar, and stop pussyfooting around. What do you say?”

“Name a time and place. But you’ll trust a man?”

“I’ll trust the Dragonborn.”

“Good enough for me. I’m heading to the library now. Need me for anything else?”

“Not right now, but I might think of something later.” She stood up and walked away. I watched her until she disappeared into another room, as I headed off to the library as intended.


	15. Lodge

Zoltan looked up as I walked through and slammed the door of the Rosemary and Thyme. He got up immediately, and by the time I sat down, I had a tankard of ale in front of me. I necked that within seconds, hearing him chuckle and a new one was placed in front of me again a few seconds later. Seeing the state of my knuckles, bandages were also placed on the table.

“So… I take it…”

“Casino was a busted flush. Sort of. Any sign of Geralt?”

“Not yet. What are you up to?”

“Looking for Whoreson Junior.”

Zoltan didn’t ask any more questions. I guess my tone suggested why we wanted to find him. Me walking in with bleeding knuckles would have provided more information as to how my investigation was progressing. “You leave anyone alive?”

“All of them. I have bleeding and bruised knuckles, and I’m sure I’ve got a few more bruises on my body. They all lost a lot more blood and some might have trouble walking over the next few days.”

Zoltan left me to drink in peace, though I only sipped at that second tankard, didn’t want to be drunk for whenever Geralt returned. It was dark by the time he did, slamming the door same as me. I took one look at him with Zoltan and asked, “What the fuck happened to you?”

“Cyprian Wily, otherwise known as Whoreson Junior. Met him. Unpleasant fucker. Tried to have me killed. Obviously failed.”

“The arena?” Geralt nodded as he sat opposite, Zoltan returning with three tankards. “What did you learn?”

“Nothing. You?”

“He’s working with Redania. Explains why he’s turned his back on the other three.”

Geralt’s eyes widened in surprise. Rarely did I have the upper hand in such matters. “That reliable information?”

“Found a halfling in the casino, beaten half to death. He’s a spy, working for Bedlam. Asked the wrong questions to the wrong people. They were working him over pretty good when I walked in. Had no reason to lie to me once I was done with them. Told him he should make himself scarce once he’d spilled the beans.”

“Run into any of Cleaver’s men?”

“No.”

“Well, they were all over the arena and surrounding sewers. Idiots were swinging first, asking questions later. Had to put a couple down that got in the way. Doubt that’ll please him.”

“Worry about Cleaver later. If he needs sorting out, so be it. So we know he’s working for Redania, that’s it. I guess we go back to Djikstra and see what else he knows. After we check his house tomorrow morning. Right now, I’m not in the mood for anything except a few drinks.”

“Head back to the Kingfisher and I’ll meet you there tomorrow. We’ll visit Junior’s house.”

“I’m in the mood to torch the place, Geralt.”

Triss at least helped me put in a decent mood a little later, first with a couple of drinks, sharing a plate of food, then we even had a little dance. Heading upstairs, she made sure I was sat down before performing a slow striptease. By the time she was done, I was so hard, it almost hurt. All she was did having me lower my trousers and underwear before she sat on my lap, rode me until I came, then she stayed sitting on me, nothing but soft kisses on my lips and face.

She knew how to put a smile back on my face, that was for sure.

Geralt met me the next morning, and after Triss headed off as always, the pair of us strode out into the city, heading straight for Junior’s residence. We handled the men at the gates with our bare hands, a few solid punches putting them on the ground. I did wonder about killing them, Geralt suggesting we just head inside.

That’s when we did need to arm ourselves, as there were plenty of guards. We put them all down as they were certainly not going to lay down their weapons and walk away. Some of them may have feared Whoreson Junior more than us, more fool them. But kill them all we did, and once we had drawn out the few guards in the house, Geralt and I got to work. We ransacked the place, leaving it a complete mess, but regarding anything as to Whoreson Junior, his activities or his whereabouts, we found nothing.

Returning to Djikstra, he was understandably frustrated we only had one piece of information, but even that seemed to open a possible avenue. “Novigrad might be a dead end, but there is someone else who might prove to be of assistance,” he stated.

“I’ll bite. Who?” Geralt asked.

“Temarian... Former commander of the Blue Stripes... Ring a bell?”

“Vernon Roche,” Geralt replied.

Djikstra looked at me. “When did you last see him?”

“At least a couple of weeks before hostilities commenced. Is he still alive and fighting?”

That made Djikstra chuckle, at least. “You think someone like Vernon Roche will die in a muddy puddle? The man is, if anything, a survivor. He’s with what remains of his men in a camp near Oxenfurt. You’ll know you’re getting close because you’ll know you’re being watched.”

We headed out immediately, mounting up and heading east. Just thinking of Oxenfurt made me think of Shani. I must have made more than one lingering glance to the city in the distance as Geralt was soon chuckling, figuring I was thinking of making a visit. But I couldn’t afford to be distracted, at least not too much anyway.

It was early afternoon by the time we made it to the outskirts of where Djikstra had shown us where his camp was on the map in his office. I didn’t notice anything but Geralt soon whispered he knew our approach was being monitored, and we soon came upon a cave, a pair of sentries on duty. Dismounting, we approached them together.

“Looking for Vernon Roche,” Geralt stated.

The sentry looked between us both. “No-one here by that name. Fuck off.”

I sighed. So did Geralt. “What unit did you serve in?” I asked.

“What’s it matter to you?”

“Temerian Army. Third Division, First Regiment. Stationed near White Orchard. Lost a lot of good men that day. Fairly sure I’m one of a handful who survived.” I unbuttoned my tunic and showed him the scar on my chest. “Black Ones did their best to kill me. They obviously failed, not through lack of trying.”

The sentries shared a glance. “White Orchard, you said?” the other asked.

“Aye.”

“Knew a couple of men who fought near there. The stories that have spread of what happened…”

I nodded. “We fought hard, but we were overwhelmed and annihilated.”

“Roche is inside,” the first sentry stated, “Just mind what you say. He’s never in a particularly good mode.”

Heading inside, there were more men than I expected. Certainly not enough to launch any sort of assault to head south and free Temeria, but enough to provide a unit or two of men in any sort of invasion south once the remaining Northern Kingdoms finally allied and fought Nilfgaard together.

Roche recognised us both and waved us over, and after clasping forearms, were about to ask him a series of questions when Ves wandered over. The two had a furious argument, Ves a mixture of pissed off and upset, and then she stormed off. Vernon was as equally pissed off and he looked at me. “Go talk to her, Ragnar. You’ve at least got a sensible bone or two in your body.”

Leaving Geralt to speak to him, I wandered through a few chambers, each with a few men surrounding a campfire. Walking down a narrow tunnel, I eventually found Ves leaning against the wall by herself, looking completely unhappy. Approaching her somewhat cautiously, she met my eyes and smirked. No surprise her tits were almost hanging out. Well known distraction technique.

Distracted me enough as she practically leapt on me, collapsing to the back on the ground, smacking my head and crying out. All she did was laugh as she straddled my lap. “Too busy gawkin’ at my tits, Ragnar.”

“Well, I do remember them being rather lovely tits, Ves. Remember the rest of you being rather lovely as well.”

“Lovely?” That made her laugh. “Don’t know too many men who would call anythin’ to do with me that.” She leaned down, placing a hand to either side of my head. “Roche send you in here to talk to me?”

“Aye.”

“Want to fuck me instead?” Her bluntness made me laugh this time. “Look, I’m surrounded…”

“Not saying no. I usually have to buy a woman a drink first, maybe flirt badly a little bit.”

“I haven’t been laid in… too long. I won’t say I remember our last time together, at least in regards to when. I do remember it was fuckin’ good though.” She wasted no time reaching under my trousers to cop a feel. “Ah, I do remember that though. No fuckin’ my arse this time though. I’m lackin’ certain things required.”

It was nothing like Triss or Shani. Or any other woman I’d been with recently. All she did was help lower my trousers and underwear, she took off the same, and lowered herself down on my cock and started to ride me. I took the opportunity to open her tunic completely to get a look and feel of those rather nice breasts of hers, which made her grin at least. “Fuck, I can never figure out if I prefer fightin’ or fuckin’ more.”

Moving my hands to her hips, I held on as I started to pump up into her, earning a grin as she leaned down. Her face rested above mine, and I could see her thinking, before she did lean down and kiss me. A hard kiss, but it got the required response, making her moan into my mouth as I fucked her even harder.

“God,” she moaned, breaking the kiss.

“Aye…”

I lasted as long as I could before I trust up a final time and groaned, feeling her press down into me at the same time. Once I was empty and relaxing back, she remained sitting on my lap. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Haven’t made me cum yet.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Want to know what I was talkin’ about?”

I nodded. Ves barely had a soft or gentle bone in her body, but she relaxed on top of me and lowered her voice. “Our men, our boys. They’re still out there fightin’. Obviously we’re stateless now, guerrilla’s, fightin’ what looks like a losin’ war. We hit the Black Ones when and where we can, knowin’ the locals will have reprisals. I can’t just sit here and do nothin’.”

Reaching under her tunic, running my fingers up and down her back, that provoked a smile, though I felt the scars. She had a lot of them, and not all of them just from her time in the service of her country. She didn’t do that often, smile that is. When she did, she was a beautiful young woman. But she burned with anger most of the time. Moments like this were fleeting. I’m not sure if she ever enjoyed them or not. “There’s always a bigger picture, Ves. Roche… The future of your country now rests in his hands. The leaders are gone. The nobility is either dead or conspiring with Nilfgaard. Temeria no longer exists on any maps. Roche is doing what he must to keep everyone going.”

“Fuck,” she murmured. She then pressed her hands down into my chest and just rode me. It was… angry sex, for her at least, almost slamming herself down onto my cock, but her eyes watched mine the entire time. She wasn’t just angry. There was a fury I’d seen there before, though obviously never while fucking… but I saw the pain behind them. She’d lost nearly everything, and I knew her story before she even joined the Blue Stripes. Hers had not been an easy life. I think I was one of the very few she had trusted to know everything about her. It’s perhaps why, whenever we had a moment like this, I tried to be… gentle… She’d never say it but I knew she appreciated it.

“Need to cum,” she whispered. So I helped her along, licking my thumb and gently fondling her clit. A few minutes later, she cried out, her body shuddered a little while, and then she relaxed down on my chest again, a slight smile on her face, feeling better about life, at least for a few minutes.

“I’ll think about it,” she eventually murmured.

Geralt found us, of course, taking one look at me and laughing. “Fucking hell, Ragnar.”

“I needed to get laid,” Ves muttered, not moving from top of me, “Just let me enjoy it a few more minutes, then you can have him back.”

“Take your time. No rush to head back to Novigrad just yet. I’ll explain what we’re doing when you’re done here, Ragnar.”

Rolling Ves onto her back, I was feeling the urge to cum again myself. She begged me to fuck her hard, so that’s what I did, spreading her legs nice and wide and absolutely slamming her. She seemed to love every second. So did I, in all honesty, and when I came inside her again, I felt her legs wrap around me, and the soft kiss on my forehead was a surprise. “Thank you,” she whispered, “I needed that.”

“Happy to oblige,” I murmured. It made us both chuckle as I eventually pulled out. Nothing to really clean up with, so all I did was pull on my underwear and trousers before putting my boots back on. Once we were both dressed, I then probably surprised her by just hugging her. Took a few seconds before she finally hugged me back. “Look after yourself, Ves,” I whispered.

“Always were too soft-hearted for your own good, Ragnar. At least with women.”

“Aye. They are my weakness. But it’s also because I care, even about someone as hard-headed as you are most of the time.”

“Is that why you sleep with me so easily every time?”

“Aye.”

Heading back out to meet Roche, I swapped a mere nod of the head with him, though whether Ves would actually take my advice or not remained to be seen. Geralt was waiting for me outside, looking at me as I appeared, shaking his head. Mounting our horses, he managed to keep his mouth shut until halfway back to Novigrad.

“Doesn’t take you long, Ragnar.”

“Ves and I have history. Not a lot, but when it happens, it happens just like that. No preamble, no flirting, no foreplay.”

“Sounds like me when I go visit… you know… Not that I’m calling Ves that before you start thinking things.”

“Anyway, how did it go with Roche?”

“Fine. We’re meeting him at lunchtime tomorrow, outside Oxenfurt. We’re to meet a Redanian contact.”

“He’s working with the Redanians?”

“No, but he’s an intelligence officer and he’ll have to make friends and allies where he can to help free his homeland.”

Agreeing to split up until the next morning, I returned to the Kingfisher, Triss appearing only a couple of hours after I returned. As soon as she was lying down next to me, I told her what happened. All she did was smile then kiss my cheek. “Thank you for being honest. But I know what she’s like. I’ve met her before.”

“If I said she didn’t leave me much choice, you’d believe me?”

“Of course I would believe you, Ragnar. You, helpless to her charms and wiles.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“Have you washed since you fucked her?”

“No.”

“Then we should bathe before you fuck me later.” I couldn’t help chuckle at how blunt she sometimes was. “I might make you eat my pussy for a while before I let you fuck me though.”

“I thought you said…”

“You were honest. I certainly don’t mind. I know you two have history. Are you seriously complaining about that idea though?”

I gave it three seconds though. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not.” She kissed my cheek and happily bounded to the door. “I’ll organise a bath for us. We’ll relax together before dinner.”

We certainly did. Hot water, scented oils, a naked Triss Merigold leaning back against me in the bath, my hands running up and down her soft body, avoiding most of her erogenous zones, as I’d enjoy those later once out of the bath. We ended very clean, and her pale skin took on a pinkish tone as the water had remained incredibly hot due to a bit of magic. After dressing, we headed downstairs for dinner and a drink, discussing our days otherwise. She knew we were searching for Ciri, but the path was never straight and narrow whenever we were on a quest. She continued her work in the shadows. I worried about her every day, but she’d survived six months and more so far. Just a little longer, and then we would figure out our next move together.

I woke with a smile the next morning. And a sore jaw. As for Triss, she woke with such a grin on her face, I found myself covered in her kisses rather quickly. “How long did you do that for?” she asked quietly.

“I won’t be talking much today.” She giggled before cuddling into me. “Worth it though.”

“I’m still exhausted. I have things to do today, Ragnar.”

After breakfast, I headed to the Rosemary and Thyme to meet Geralt and Zoltan. No beer was offered that morning, Geralt suggesting we keep a clear head as, having given it through during the night, he still didn’t have a clue who the contact could be. He had though Roche and Djikstra might have made unusual allies, both being intelligence officers, but despite the fact they knew each other, and may have helped each other on the sly, he couldn’t think of anyone else.

Riding out towards Oxenfurt with time to spare, I once again found my gaze lingering upon the walls of the city. Shani had mentioned she might have already returned to the front. Despite the war being on hiatus, soldiers were still injured or being injured, and she had always found a case in curing the fighting man. Geralt knew I’d met up with her, knew how much I cared for her. When he asked if I cared for her as much as Triss, I admitted it would be a close thing, despite the fact I’d spent far longer with Triss. “We just had this immediate spark and connection,” I had told him, “I’ll be honest, if I could make it work with both of them at once, I’d give it a bloody good try.”

Roche was waiting for us at the meeting point, dismounting and tying up our horses. He gave nothing away when we questioned him as to the contact, suggesting he didn’t trust his contact, as much as he didn’t trust us. I thought that was a little surprising, considering I’d fought for Temeria, but I guess I’d also done things that would arouse his suspicion. After all, I had been helping keep the Lodge a secret for years, even did a few minor jobs for them on the sly.

When Redanian soldiers greeted us outside the tavern, Roche was taken aback. I was already cautious, while Geralt stared at Roche. But the soldiers stood aside and let us past, Geralt and I swapping shrugged shoulders and following Roche inside.

King. Fucking. Radovid.

I immediately thought it was the Divines mocking us, and if not us, then certainly myself. Why the fuck was he waiting for us? Considering the woman I loved most had been sent fleeing into hiding because of him, he had a bloody cheek, and a set of brass balls, ready and willing to meet me in person. Though I looked around and noticed plenty of his men in the shadows. Not ordinary soldiers either. They looked like assassins, who could possibly kill the three of us without breaking a sweat.

He made no gesture but the three of us took a seat in front of him. On the table was a chessboard, and he seemed to have been playing a game by himself.

“They say it's the game of kings. That chess teaches one to think strategically. What a load of rubbish! Both sides have identical pieces, the rules stay invariably the same. How does this mirror real life? Witcher, do you know why I play chess?”

Not surprised he ignored me. Definitely didn’t know me as well as Geralt. And my friend didn’t really wish to entertain him long. “Enlighten me.”

No ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Majesty’ afterwards. Whether Radovid would care or not… “I play chess to reveal the game's secret. Blood thumps inside these chessmen. You need only listen and you will hear. Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub... A heart pumping with life. I take a pawn and I hear flesh being rent. I win a piece and hear screams from the depths of its bowels. I want to break the chessman open, squeeze the truth from them. Do you see what I mean?”

“No fucking idea what you’re going on about,” I stated.

He glared at me, finally deigning me with at least a modicum of recognition. His eyes were devoid of… anything otherwise. But they were the eyes of a madman. I’d seen that look more than once in my life. The fact we’d been allowed to keep our weapons, I could stand up, swing, and life would be better for a lot of people instantly. “You do not know because you are not a king. Pawns see only their comrades at their sides and their foes across the field. A king has a different view of the chessboard. His greatest foes surround him. His own chessmen might trap him. And that is check and death. You see, chess is the art of sacrificing your own pieces.”

“Lovely sermon. What do you want?” Geralt asked.

Geralt wasn’t going to play nice either, no doubt thinking of Yennefer and the fact, if she was in Novigrad, she could have easily ended up on a pyre like many others. Not that she would have fallen into the hands of the Eternal Fire without one hell of a fight, just like Triss.

“It’s not what I want, witcher, but what you want. Your companion here has gone to the trouble of helping you. So you simply need tell me who it is you wish to see.”

“We’re looking for Whoreson Junior.”

That made Radovid finally sit back and take notice. “Why do you seek him?”

“Personal issue.”

To our surprise, Radovid shrugged. “Fair enough. I will not pry. I've placed Junior in a mansion in Oxenfurt. Very few know this.” He waved over one of his men, who handed us a slip of paper. On it was written an address. “They'll not let you in unannounced. Thus, you must tell them you've come about the new whores. Junior constantly requires fresh women. I hear he doesn't treat them well.”

I’m fairly sure he dropped that last comment just to piss us both of. We were fond of women, but we also hated those who mistreated them. I’m no knight in shining armour, but I see a woman being mistreated, and you best be sure the man doing that will be dealing with me next.

“You’re just giving him to us like that?” I had to ask.

“Consider it a gesture of goodwill... almost. I'll expect you to return the favour. And also, Junior has lost his purpose. The Big Four is no more. I shall contact you to collect in due course. Now go. And you, Roche. We must speak another time.”

With a flick of the wrist, we were dismissed. I got up and walked out straight away, not looking back. I despised the man, but he also gave me the creeps. Once outside, and out of earshot, the three of us gathered near our horses. “He’s a fucking madman. You see his eyes?” I asked.

“There are reasons why. I’m sure you’ve heard,” Roche stated. I had a fairly good reason why. Already had a fairly good idea what the favour might be. I shook those thoughts from my head straight away. Didn’t need to be thinking about any of them.

We shook hands with Roche, assuring him that we would not be strangers now that we knew he was alive and based reasonably close, Geralt and I heading straight for the nearest gate leading into Oxenfurt. Agreeing on the way that the guards and anyone else would die, we set to work.

The guards died where they stood, Geralt and I both removing their heads with a swing. We were not in good moods. Heading inside, it was almost a macabre display. Radovid’s jest about constantly needing ‘fresh women’… “By Talos,” I muttered to myself.

“Fucking degenerate. He so much as touched Ciri, he'll pay,” Geralt muttered.

There was only blood and dead women on the first floor, so we quietly climbed the stairs up to the second. Surprisingly, there were no guards, finding only one door for the main bedroom. Opening the door, I got my first look at Ciprian Wily, otherwise known as Whoreson Junior. He was an ugly man, inside and out. He turned around, his jaw dropping wide, seeing two armed and armoured men approach him.

I let Geralt take the lead for now. I just knew that Whoreson Junior would not be seeing the sunset again in his miserable life. I leaned back against the wall, Geralt roughing him up a bit before he grabbed a chair and started to ask questions. It took a little ‘encouragement’ but he was soon spilling the beans. He’d met with Ciri. She needed help with a phylactery. He also kidnapped a friend of ours, a doppler named Dudu. We heard the whole story, Geralt giving him a little ‘encouragement’ whenever Junior wavered off the path. When he clearly had nothing else to say, Geralt stood up and walked towards me, tapping my shoulder.

“I’ll wait downstairs.”

“I’d wait outside. He’d not going to be quiet.”

“Okay. Outside. Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t. I’ll just make his last moments as painful as possible.”

Geralt shut the door, leaving me with Whoreson Junior and at least half a dozen dead women. I couldn’t look around, seeing how they had suffered. My eyes were only for him. He scrambled his way backwards as I slowly walked towards him, leaning down to grab him by his hair, dragging him to sit up on the chair. Grabbing some rope, I bound his wrists behind him before I stood in front of them, then crouched down to his eye level.

The fear that greeted my eyes made me grin. “Just you and me now, Cyprian.”

“What do you want?”

“Me? I don’t want anything. I have exactly what I want here right now. You.”

“What are you going to do?”

I gestured around but didn’t look. “I shudder at how much pain they suffered before they died. Rather obvious you are one sick motherfucker. Get some sort of sexual gratification out of this? Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Doesn’t matter now. What I can see around are various tools that I can use on you over the next couple of hours, Cyprian. Tools that will make you beg me to give you the sweet release of death. But I promise you, Cyprian, that your last couple of hours alive are going to be the most painful of your miserable life.”

“Please… I’ll do anything…”

“Just don’t die on me too soon. I will give the coup de grâce once I’m satisfied you have suffered enough.”

I gathered some tools and weapons. Hammer and nails. A saw. A dagger. Some wire. A poker I rested in the nearby fireplace. He watched me methodically organise everything, begging me through tears to just kill him quickly. I ignored him, of course. Eventually crouching in front of him again, I roughly grabbed his hair. “I bet you shed no tears when you tortured all these women,” I whispered. No point in shouting.

I didn’t shove anything in his mouth. I wanted to hear his screams. I wanted all of Oxenfurt to hear his screams.

Every tool was used over the next couple of hours. Whenever he looked close to passing out, I made sure I kept him wide awake. I’m sure his last couple of hours were nothing but pain and agony. I knew I crossed a personal line during those couple of hours, but sometimes, a man needs to receive their comeuppance in full.

I hadn’t lied though. When I’d had enough, and Whoreson Junior had received enough, barely clinging to life as it was, I gave him the coup de grâce, slitting his throat and listening to him choke on his blood for the last few seconds of his life. After putting my armour back on, I picked up my weapons and walked downstairs, stopping to wash my hand of the blood before walking outside.

Geralt met my eyes and nodded. Without a word, we headed to the gate leading outside. Of course, Radovid has his soldiers waiting for us, eager to call in his favour immediately. We were given no option either. Follow them now, freely, or find ourselves dragged before him in chains. Naturally, we took the first option, escorted towards the harbour, where his ship was waiting.

Never liked handing over my weapons at the best of times, but I didn’t think Geralt and I would find ourselves being slaughtered before Radovid, and we were quickly escorted aboard and into an audience with him. It amused me that we were meeting him the second time that day, though obviously the circumstances were different. The first meeting had almost, almost been as equals. This time, he made sure he stood above us, making us look up at him.

“Find me Philippa Eilhart,” he demanded.

That was exactly what I had feared.

* * *

_A few years earlier…_

“If I were to ask, Ragnar, would you do work on behalf of the Lodge?”

“I’m surprised you don’t just ask Triss to get me to do it.”

Philippa smirked, shaking her head. “No. I’m asking. I don’t need to ask others to approach you regarding matters of the Lodge.”

“Not to be sarcastic, but I’m a man. Thought you…”

Philippa sighed. “Would you shut up with that already, Ragnar. I think it’s obvious we all accept your presence here. I think I can go so far as to say we all like you.” She met my eyes and would have noted my smirk. “You just like pushing my buttons.”

“Have to enjoy myself whenever I’m here. And I enjoy our battle of wills. You win every time, but I enjoy the game nonetheless.”

“So, my original question. Would you work with us?”

“For you.”

“For us?”

“Aye.”

I could see my simple response startled her, no doubt expecting questions, such as what their intentions were, what they wanted me to do. But that would come later. She asked, I answered. The smile slowly formed and she reached over to take my hand. “Thank you, Ragnar.”

I squeezed her hand back. “Not a problem. Care to mention what you want me to do?”

“Not yet as I have nothing for you. I simply wondered if you would be willing.” She paused before asking, “Are you not worried about what we’re trying to achieve?”

“I’m not exactly sure what you are trying to achieve. I know most of this is secret. I don’t ask Triss questions about what she’s organising. This is important to her, something she believes in, a cause, if you will. I’m simply here to support her however I can.”

“And the rest of us?”

“I’m not going to turn you in, if that’s what you’re worried about. I said long ago now that you’re under my protection, and despite the fact you don’t really need it, my word remains. A Nord knows the gravity of giving such a word, and does not do so freely without judging the consequences of making such a commitment.”

“So you care about us?”

“Hard not to considering… you know…”

“The fact you’ve slept with a few of us now?”

“That’s a pretty big reason. You sleep with someone, you know them in the most intimate way possible, it’s hard not to care for that person, particularly as I see them what feels like constantly.”

“Triss still doesn’t mind?”

I leaned closer to her. “Philippa, I know you’ve slept with her while we’ve been here,” I whispered, “I’m not stupid.”

“I never… I didn’t…”

“You are adorable when, on those rare moments, you are flustered. And I like it that I am the cause every single time.”

“Do you still want to? Sleep with me, that is?”

“Absofuckinglutely.”

That earned me one of those rare genuine smiles that I was perhaps seeing more often with each visit. I found myself talking to Philippa in private more often with each visit. It appeared innocent, at least if you were just observing, but I wasn’t lying about a battle of wills. But someone as intelligent as herself was always going to run rings around me. She had me wrapped around her finger, much like Triss did. Triss knew that too and was amused more than anything.

But the conversations would always turn intensely personal and private, with more and more flirting each time. Philippa knew I was attracted, and I knew she was back, but I knew she was coming to terms with that attraction, having to deal with the fact she had thought she was done with men forever. Then I come along and, she had already told me, she would have loved being swept off her feet. Those moments, lasting little more than a few seconds, when she let her imagination get the better of her.

I had a feeling the moment was approaching when the talking, the flirting, the constant circling, it would reach a moment when desire would overcome us, and we’d finally give into the temptation. Triss had already told me that, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, to go for it, simply because she thought ‘Philippa would love nothing more than to be fucked by you, Ragnar. She utterly adores you.’

I’ll admit, that admission had taken me by surprise. I didn’t think Philippa Eilhart would adore anyone, let alone someone like me. But I guess I had my charms. Still didn’t know what exactly, even after all these years. Triss still saw something in me though. Francesca was always very friendly with me after that night we had shared, and had shared the occasional night together since.

At dinner that night, I found myself sandwiched between Philippa and Triss. Not a bad place to be, in all honesty. During dinner, Philippa seemed to have made up her mind. “Care to join me for a drink after dinner, Ragnar?”

“I’d be delighted, Philippa.”

“Care to join us, Triss?”

“I have some work to complete with Sile tonight, Philippa. I’ll have to take you up on the offer another night. Ragnar is more than welcome to join you though.”

I glanced at Philippa and her eyes spoke volumes, but otherwise, her face gave absolutely nothing away. She was an expert gwent player as well.

Once the dining room was cleared, Triss kissed my cheek, whispered for me to have fun and definitely not return to her room that night. She said it loudly enough for Philippa to hear, and when I glanced at her, I noticed the colour had changed in her cheek. Triss knew exactly what was going to happen. So did I. So did Philippa.

Walking together towards her quarters, and she obviously had the largest room in the castle, I discovered she actually had rooms, as there was a sitting room, an adjoining office and library, while her bedroom was simply enormous, with an adjoining water closet, which was a large room in itself. She gave me a quick tour before we sat down in front of the fireplace, pouring us both a glass of wine before we sat back, feeling Philippa get comfortable.

“Can I be absolutely blunt, Ragnar?”

“You usually are. I’m assuming you mean ‘blunt and honest’, which I prefer from everyone.”

She took a swig of her wine, I think calming her nerves. The fact Philippa Eilhart was nervous amused me. “I haven’t been with a man in… years… decades…” She glanced my way. “I’m obviously a lot older than you. Magic.”

“Don’t care how old you are. You’re beautiful regardless. And…” Didn’t get out whatever I had to say next, as she leaned over to kiss me. It didn’t last long, but enough that she pulled back and was definitely blushing. Never thought I’d make her blush so brightly. I had to hide my chuckles by sipping at my wine.

She grabbed my hand and put two of my fingers to her neck. Her heart was certainly beating fast. “I’m… nervous, Ragnar,” she admitted, “I’ve obviously imagined how this would go. But now that you’re here…”

“Second guessing?”

“God no. I honestly can’t wait until we’re in my bedroom. It’s just… it’s been so long since, I’m actually worried about being embarrassed more than anything.”

“Nothing that happens in your bedroom leaves those four walls. I have shared nothing of what happened with anyone else. These moments are private, for you and I only.”

We drank the rest of our glasses in silence before I stood up and offered my hand, leading her into the bedroom, that first real kiss we shared was something else entirely. She practically melted into my body, which I didn’t really expect. I thought she would have wanted to control the bedroom like everyone else. Leaning back slightly as I broke the kiss, I gently caressed her cheek, which earned one of those genuine smiles.

Resuming our kisses, my hands moved to her back to undo her dress. She did murmur something about magic, gently retorting that I preferred to undress my lovers. I knew she had it all planned when she stood in front of me in a bra, panties, stockings and suspenders. When I said as much, she simply laughed and stepped into my arms again, resuming our kissing, though we quickly helped me get out of all my clothes until we were both in underwear.

First hint of nerves I heard was when she said, “Ragnar, I…”

Knew exactly what she was going to say. A smile and a caress of the cheek made her smile again. “No expectations. And I can go without. All I want is… you, on that bed, preferably without the bra and panties.”

“But keep the stockings on?”

“God yes.”

Lying her back on the bed, I had a lot of fun just taking off her bra. It was a lacy thing, no doubt very expensive, and looked fantastic on her. But that first look at her breast, I think she liked the look in my eyes. “Now that is what I do miss about being with a man. That look. Almost like… the animal inside.”

“Maybe. I just really like what I see, Philippa.”

I made her giggle and I made her moan over the next few minutes, feeling her fingers run through my hair. Once I was figured she was turned on more than earlier, I started to kiss down her body. She definitely kept fit but her body was still rather soft and womanly, for want of a better word. Moving down to her panties, I trailed a finger over her crotch and could feel how damp they were, looking up and grinning, her eyes looking back. She lifted herself up so I could remove them, ever so gently spreading her legs. She kept hair above and around her pussy, which I didn’t mind. Some women shaved completely, some kept it neat and trimmed. Other women liked it a little longer. Each woman was unique.

“You don’t mind?” she asked and I heard the first real tone of uncertainty.

I put my nose to her hair and inhaled, which made her giggle. Giggle! But I’m fairly sure I heard a sigh of relief as I kissed down slowly towards her slit, finally running my tongue along it, earning a gasp. “Philippa?” She lifted her head and looked back down. “Make sure you tell me what you’re liking and what you want me to do. I really don’t mind.”

She nodded but added, “Don’t want to be in control here.”

She let me ‘take control’ of her, keeping my hands on her legs for the time being as I let my mouth and tongue do the work. She tasted… divine. Helps that I love going down on women, and every woman generally tasted different. I think a lot of it was mental, the fact Philippa and I had danced around this happening for months, and now it was finally happening, and I was more than happy going down on her, I was always going to enjoy it.

She enjoyed it too, making her moan and gasp, hearing her whisper when I was doing something right, and to keep doing a certain something. When I slid a couple of fingers inside her, she lifted her head and smiled. Finding that special spot she had had the desired effect, her back slowly arching as, in addition to a little attention now on her clit, I was definitely going to bring her to orgasm.

“Oh god,” she cried quietly, “How are you…”

A gentle flick of her clit cut off her sentence, it ending in another moan. I didn’t have to ‘fuck’ her with my fingers, just moving them enough to have her writhing, holding her thigh with my other hand, watching her hand grip the blankets, head rolling back as she quietly cried out. I wanted to talk dirty to her, but was far too focused on making her cum.

I did. It was… beautiful.

To my surprise, she asked me to stop once she’d caught her breath, taking out my fingers and kissing up her body. When I offered her my fingers, she made sure I put them in her mouth rather than her lifting herself up to take them. She closed her eyes and smiled shyly once I took them out. “Naughty,” I whispered before leaning down to kiss her.

Feeling her fingers at the band of my underwear, I took them off, pleased that she was so eager. Resting above her, she reached down while focusing on my eyes, smiling at her as she caressed my cock. “Feels big,” she whispered.

“I’ve been complimented before.”

“Can you be gentle?”

“We’re making love, Philippa.” She leaned up to kiss me for that one. “Ready?”

“Give me a minute.” She took a deep breath, continuing to caress my cock. “Ragnar, I… You lead, I’ll follow. Whatever you want from me.”

“Philippa, it isn’t like that. You need to enjoy it too.”

“I will as soon as you’re inside me. I’ve thought about it…”

“Since when?” She blushed and looked away, so I made her look back at me. “Since when, Philippa?”

“Our first meeting. That first day you escorted Triss in. The first word that popped into my mind was ‘Wow’. Obviously couldn’t say that nor give away that I actually didn’t mind you being here as soon as I saw you.”

“And here I thought you hated men.”

“Not hate, just some of them can be idiots.” She guided my cock towards her pussy. “Enough talk,” she whispered, “I want to make love, Ragnar. With you.”

I slowly slid inside her. Gods, she felt wonderful straight away. I didn’t stop watching her face, the broad grin slowly appearing with ever inch that slid inside her. Once I was buried, she couldn’t stop smiling, feeling her move her legs to get comfortable, as I slowly started to move. She needed to keep kissing me, I think to distract her. No idea when she’d last been with a man, didn’t really care either. Her fingers were soon running through my hair and down my back, bending her knees and resting them at my side, resting one of my hands on her arse as the angle changed, and I felt even deeper.

“Oh god,” she whimpered.

“Okay?” She nodded eagerly. I never picked up my tempo too much, simply enjoying the feeling of finally being inside her. She seemed to realise that, and enjoyed it as much as I was. “You feel wonderful, Philippa.”

“So do you,” she said, giggling again, a sound I never thought I’d hear from her.

I couldn’t last forever, and was never going to last that long with her that first time. Warning her I was getting close, she asked me to go faster, feeling her fingers dig into my back as I did just that. Warning her again I was just about to cum, she kissed me hard, groaning into her mouth as I buried myself, her legs moving immediately to wrap around me, a few last pumps as I emptied myself, continuing to kiss her despite experiencing those few seconds every time I cum where my mind is just… empty.

“Fuck,” I finally groaned once we broke apart. Philippa… the smile that I saw would be something I’d etch into memory.

I stayed pretty much rock hard and we continued after a couple of minutes. That definitely surprised her, making her laugh as soon as I started thrusting into her again. “Already?” she asked.

“I barely went soft, Philippa.”

“Oh god, I’m going to wake up sore.”

“Maybe. Does that bother you?”

“Not at all!”

I came inside her again before suggesting we switch, and I had the pleasure of watching Philippa Eilhart ride my cock. She seemed a little unsure, and admitted once she had slid down my cock that she’d never done it with a man like that. “What? Why?”

“Um… it was generally just what we did and that’s it.”

“God, no wonder you were turned off men if that’s all you did. So… is this our only night?”

“I bloody hope not, Ragnar.”

“Then we’re are going to have a lot of fun, Philippa.”

“Want to add another woman?” I raised my eyebrows at that, making her smile. “Isn’t that a male fantasy?”

“For some. And, yes, I am one of those men.”

“Triss?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I’m sure we can work something out.”

Philippa loved riding me, particularly once she learned she could orgasm in such a position. It was the first time I’d ever seen her get close to emotional, as after she enjoyed it, she needed to lie down on my chest, feeling her breathing deeply, running my fingers up and down her back, and I heard the one or two shudders when taking a deep breath. I didn’t make a big deal about it, and when she sat up enough to keep going, resting her hands to either side of me, I just caressed her face and looked into her eyes.

She enjoyed two more before ending up on her back again, where I enjoyed one more, and that’s when she needed to cry enough, whispering that she was starting to feel a little tender. After cleaning up, she spooned against me, taking her hands in mine, her head resting just below my chin. “Bet they all said they could get used to this, didn’t they?”

“Aye. I’ve heard it more than once.”

“You really do keep us safe, in your own way, don’t you?”

“We’re safe here anyway, but I like to think my patrolling outside helps.”

“Looking all big and mean I’m sure keeps away anyone curious.” She turned to look at me. “Thank you, Ragnar.”

“What for?”

“For just being you. I’ve always thought what we see is what we get. Guess that’s why we all like you. No games. What you say is the truth no matter what.”

“Lying would get me nowhere, particularly with all of you.”

“We’ll make love in the morning before breakfast?”

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to please her, snuggling back against me and promptly falling asleep. I lay awake a little longer, feeling her body moulded against mine, going over in my mind the fact I was currently in bed with her after having made love for a couple of hours. I just hoped it didn’t change things between everyone currently in the castle.

Thankfully, walking into the dining room the next morning didn’t seem to attract any attention, and once it was done, our relationship was back to how it was before. Friendly but I was just there due to being with Triss.

Triss noticed the change though. Before she left for the conference, she kissed my cheek and whispered, “She’s happy. In fact, she’s delighted.” I met her eyes and earned a grin. “I know her well, Ragnar. She’s… walking on air this morning. She must have really enjoyed herself last night.”

“I did too.”

“Like her, don’t you?”

“I like everyone here, Triss.”

“But you _really_ like her?”

“Not to the detriment of us.”

“I know.” She kissed my cheek again. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Of course. I’ll do my morning patrol, looking all mean like usual.”

That made her laugh, and after a last kiss on the lips, she headed off to meet the rest. I headed outside into the courtyard after picking up my weapons, the few guards on duty looking alert but also rather bored. Taking a deep breath, sucking in the cold morning air, I headed off towards the nearest staircase, ready to perch myself in my usual position, playing my role as the defender of the Lodge. A useless role, but one I still performed regardless.

I know they all appreciated the sentiment inside.


End file.
